#not me realizing like 12 hours later that a lot of people won’t get this joke

[springypaws]

This is what I’m doing instead of studying for my big Physics test tomorrow, like a cool individual

(messy phone drawing moment)

[daddysgoty0u]

Christy had been through a lot. She was only 21, but she felt she had lived an entire life. She was 5'2, 115 pounds, blonde curly hair, with gorgeous thighs, for she was a cheerleader at St. Martin ’s University in Arkansas . She was the classic Southern Belle, complete with the accent. However, she hadn’t been using it over the past few days, because she had been depressed. As she lay up in her dorm room, Christy lamented over the coming midterms.

“I can’t believe midterms are already here. I am so unprepared.” She looked at the clock and read that it was 3 pm . She then contemplated studying for her Italian midterm, which happened to be the next day, but she fell asleep instead.

When Christy awoke, she yawned, stretched, rubbed her eyes and picked up her Italian textbook. Looking at the clock, she realized that it was 9 pm . She had slept for over four hours! “Oh my gosh”, she thought.

“I have got to study from now until the exam just to get through everything.” Whimpering, she crammed for the next 10 hours, taking small bathroom and snack breaks, only to walk into the exam room totally exhausted. She finished the exam with plenty of time left, which worried her, but, at that point, she didn’t care. The professor told the class that their grades would be posted via the internet in 3 hours, so check back. Trembling, Christy left the classroom to go find her some coffee, for she had three hours to wait.

Three hours later, Christy was back in her dorm room, logging onto her computer to check her grade. She had showered in the meantime, and had changed clothes from the plaid pajama pants and tank top into some nice pants and a blouse. As she logged onto her Italian course site, her heart sank into her stomach.

“A fucking 62??!!” she cried out.

“No way!” She slammed her chair against the table and threw herself onto her bed, exhausted and crying.

Christy assumed she cried herself to sleep, because she woke up from a doze with a start. Her clock read 12 pm . She assumed she had dozed off, but it wasn’t restful. Over the next few nights, Christy lost sleep and, even when she fell asleep from pure exhaustion, she didn’t rest. She woke up continuously tired and never any better off than when she went to sleep. She decided to go see the school doctor and see what he could prescribe her.

As Christy sat in the doctor’s office, she was shivering because she was cold. Finally, the doctor came in. She knew Doctor Mitchell well, for she had to get her birth control from him in addition to some antibiotics she had gotten a few months earlier for a bacterial infection she had come across.

“Hello, Christy, how’s life treating you?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

“Not too well, Mike,” Christy and the doctor were on a first-name basis. He gave her a funny look. She responded, “Ever since last month, I have been having trouble with sleep. I can’t fall asleep. Its like my mind works overtime and won’t let me drown anything out so I can get some rest.”

Immediately the doctor suggested a stress test, which Christy gladly accepted.

As Doctor Mitchell examined Christy’s levels of stress over a number of questions via a machine that examined her heartrate, he came to her with a diagnosis.

“Christy, you need a break.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Mike”.

“Well, you know I am a psychologist in addition to a general practice doctor, and there’s this new kind of treatment for people who are needing an escape from daily life.”

Christy was nervous, kind of glancing around the room.

“Recreational pharmaceuticals, Mike?” she laughed.

“No, actually its hypnotism. Called YSR; or Youthful Stress Relief.”

Christy looked at him and got down immediately.

“No way, Mike. I am not letting you hypnotize me into anything.”

Mike stopped her.

“But you don’t understand. It’s for your own good. And plenty of research has been done to prove that its safe.”

“I dunno Mike,” Christy groaned.

“I don’t have the time.

“Look,” he said as he took her into his arms.

“Midterms are over. I will come over tomorrow night and explain everything to you then, okay?” Reluctantly, Christy agreed.

The next night came, and Christy answered the door when Mike knocked. In his arms he had books, a tape, and some candles. Looking at him awkwardly, Christy let him in.

“Now, here’s what YSR will do for you. When was the last time you were stress free?”

“Um, when I was probably 7, because with school, comes stress.”

“Good. Okay, you are 21, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I am going to hypnotize you and regress you mentally so that less stress is placed on you mentally each day. You will have the mind of 2-year-old by the end of it. And the best part is, its completely reversible, so you can come back to regular, everyday life whenever you want.”

“Hell, at this point, if it allows me to sleep better, I don’t care what it does,” Christy replied.

“Let’s go”.

“…and when I snap my fingers, you will wake up, completely in the mind of a 7-year-old.” <SNAP!>

“WHOA!” cried out Christy. She covered her mouth at the sound of her voice, and then giggled and got up, grabbing Mike’s hands.

“Let’s go play tag!” she cried out. Mike smiled. ‘exactly as it should be,’ he thought to himself.

“But Christy, its nearly your bed-time.” You need to go to bed, okay. Go get your jammies on so you can go to bed, okay?“

“Otay”, she replied, and disappeared into her bedroom, where, not five seconds later, she returned in an oversized t-shirt with panties on underneath.

“Now, we can sit here and watch tv if you want, but you have to promise to go to sleep.” The two of them sat down on the couch and, in a matter or moments, Christy was out, sleeping soundly.

The next morning, Mike brought Christy out of her hypnotized state, asking her how she slept.

“Mike, I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, I feel awesome.”

“Well rested?”

“Very.”

“Good, then should we do this once every two weeks?” Mike asked.

“Sure, I am sure I will need it again in a couple of weeks. Want some breakfast? It’s the least I can do for you.” The two ate breakfast together, with Christy cooking eggs for Mike and herself.

Over the next few months, Christy began to call on Mike for more of the YSR. She was fixing to graduate, and time was running out for her to finish her final graduation project. Now, as time had gone on, Mike had not been charging Christy for his services. He accepted breakfast and wrote it off as a favor to a friend. However, he began to develop a crush on his patient, which is strictly forbidden by the Hippocratic Oath, which all doctors take when they are licensed. One night, he tried to move in on his crush, with some simple words.

“Christy, I have to tell you something,” he started.

“What is it Mike?”

“I…er…think I have a crush on you.”

This totally shocked Christy, who merely thought of Mike as her best friend and doctor.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Mike, but this patient-doctor relationship is as far as we need to get, okay?” Mike was infuriated, but didn’t let it show.

“That’s fine, if that’s how you feel, I just felt the need to tell you, okay? Now onto our YSR for the evening.

<SNAP> Suddenly, Christy was awake. She was aware of everything that went on around her, seeing Mike sitting on her couch with a sly grin made her worried a little bit, but she was okay. As Christy decided to stand up she looked at Mike and spoke to him. She meant to say, ‘You want some breakfast, Mike?’, but it came out as, "Ooosu bekfass daddy?” She immediately slapped her hands to her mouth as she not only couldn’t form the words correctly, but heard the babyishness of her voice. She went to stand up immediately, not likeing the sound of her voice or her incapability to talk, and immediately fell back down with a padded <THUD>. She tried again, this time clumsily putting her hands in front of her and raising her butt in the air t gain balance. All of this was involuntary, as if her mind was forcing her body to do it before she could react. She was able to get upright, only to fall back down with another <THUD>. She noticed that she was sitting a few inched higher than usual and that something was different about her clothing. Christy looked down at her waist and saw…diapers! She was wearing what felt like two thick disposable diapers and a white t-shirt that barely covered her top.

“So, how’s my baby doing this morning?” Mike asked as he got up and moved over to her.

“You talked to me like I was some kind of baby, so I figured you would get a kick out of being one for a while. Maybe you should learn not to be so rude to people…baby. At this, Christy wanted to cry, but she fought the urge and, although her face scrunched up involuntarily, she prevented herself from crying.

"Now, let’s get up, shall we?” Mike said as he bent over to help Christy up. She wobbled as she stood there, simply being held up by Mike’s single hand held in hers. She was dependant on him at this point even to stand.

“Can you stand up while I go get you some food?” He mockingly asked. Christy lazily nodded her head, and Mike left. Almost the instant that he let go and was out of her sight, again, she wanted to cry uncontrollably, but again she fought it. Again this uncontrollable urge to cry came over her, but she fought it, only to fall down on her padded behind again. Mike returned with a bottle of “formula” that he had specially mixed, just for her. As Christy thirstily drank it down, she realized that she had been hungry, and that this formula strangely satisfied her hunger. As soon as Mike saw that she had finished her bottle, he led her by the hand into her guest room, which only had a tv in it. Aside from the tv, the room was bare.

Christy tried her best, once Mike left, to stand up so she could leave and find help, but the cartoons that he had turned on grabbed her attention. She was stuck to the tv, her eyes never leaving the screen. About thirty minutes later, she felt the urge to pee. She struggled with the words, but was finally able to call out, “Daddy!” and Mike came into the room.

“Me need potty!” she blurted out, holding her legs together while squirming. All of a sudden, as soon as she finished saying ‘potty’, she felt her bladder give way and herself flood her diapers. The warm urine flushed its way around the back of her diapers and, since she was sitting down, gushed towards the front. Christy tried her hardest to clench her bladder shut, but her muscles wouldn’t work. They simply wouldn’t work. Mike smiled and left. It didn’t take long, but minutes later, about 45 to be exact, Christy felt her bowels begin to rumble. 'Oh no’ she thought, 'I am not honestly gonna shit on myself, am I?’. She tried to work herself up frantically, feeling the pressure on her bowels increase with each passing second. She worked herself up to her feet by pushing her thickly diapered butt out in the air and pushing down with her hands. As she got to her feet, she began to wobble-step towards the door, all the while, her bowels were screaming to be released. Suddenly, one of her pigeon-toed steps caught the other foot, and she fell backwards again onto her butt. All of a sudden, her bowels gave way, expelling the last two days worth of adult food, and the formula that she had eaten earlier. It felt like five minutes, but for the entirety of that five minutes, Christy filled her diapers to the point of bursting.

21 Days Later - Daily Diapers Stories

[anonym0usl0vers]

The 1

Life is just constant ups and downs. Constant contemplating, wondering if I’m doing the best I can be. 

A lot has happened the last 2 months. Kathryn got into a terrible accident and almost died. She’s still in a wheelchair and it’s been almost 3 months. She may never be able to use her left hand again. Jess and I got into a huge fight. She definitely has some sort of weird resentment for me that I’m not even sure she’s aware of. Because of the way she was talking to me, I just snapped. I lost it on her. The worst part? I’m not even sorry. I constantly feel like I’m being pushed around by everyone around me. I constantly feel guilty or like I’m not doing good enough and I’m tired of it. She proved to me that she was just using me. Our friendship looking back doesn’t even feel genuine anymore. I cut her out of my like totally, and I felt a sense of relief. Apart of me wants to know if there’s something wrong with me for not caring. But because I don’t care, I don’t really care about if I should care...  

I thought two people that are meant to be in each others lives forever whether as friends or in a relationship will be able to stick together no matter what. I realize that doesn’t happen if one person moves on and the other cannot. If you are able to get through obstacles and do whatever it takes to get through it, and the other person won’t.... can’t or does not make the effort then where does that leave the two of you? Where does that leave your friendship? 

Alex got married on 10/21. On that day I went to Target to pick up some last minute things. I ran into Nicks best friend who looked very bewildered to see me. We made eye contact, I barely remembered who he was until I was already walking passed him. Once I remembered my heart dropped. A week later I found out on the same weekend Nick got married. 

Here I am, 2 years after we broke up from a 5 month relationship and I saw that picture of him with his wife and my entire body went numb. My mind went blank, my heart dropped, and I suddenly felt sick. I woke up at 5:30 am and 7am super nauseous and had to run to the bathroom. Then I slept for 12 hours. I don’t know why it surprised me. 

The summer I spent with Nick was unlike anything I will probably experience again. I wonder if it was the same for him. I wonder if he thinks of me and has a fond feeling of the time we shared together like I do. I still don’t know if I would have loved him the same, or fell for him as hard if I met him now. I just know that the summer of 2020 I really needed him, and I really needed those memories to get by. I’ll never forget feeling like a kid again apple picking, or getting into a light saber fight. I felt okay with him. 

Anyone I’ve met after him has not made me feel anywhere near what I’ve felt for him. I think I just have to continue focusing on myself. 

My art is getting more and more popular. I went to my first art fair last Sunday. I met some incredible people, felt great vibes, felt support from my entire family. I know that I am doing well for myself. I am happy. Just sometimes I wish I could meet someone to share all of this with. 

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.

Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.

Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don��t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?

“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”

“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

[blackradandmad]

my experience with lupron/”puberty blockers”

i have severe endometriosis. i was diagnosed at 16 and had three major surgeries for it before i turned 19. i started birth control for my six weeks long, heavy, debilitating periods when i started having them at 12. by 19, i had tried every birth control under the sun (with no success) -- except lupron. lupron, a gnrh agonist commonly used on males as a treatment for prostate cancer, on women in fertility treatments, on women with endometriosis, aaaaand yup, this is the exact same drug parents let be injected into girls with the euphemistic title of a “puberty blocker.” (i promise we’ll circle back to this hold on) 

luckily, i live two hours away from one of the most accomplished endometriosis specialists/surgeon in the world, and he is so passionate about finding a cure or at least better treatments for women with endometriosis. he’s an obgyn but he literally doesn’t do the obstetrics part, he purely focuses on helping each woman find their best treatment for this disease. he has such a vast amount of knowledge on surgery techniques and surgical robots and different treatment options, and he is incredibly thorough when it comes to informed consent. if something could happen or has happened-- positive, negative, or neutral-- he will tell you about it. in detail. now this is important, because after decades of observing treatment effects and listening to women and researching side effects, his personal philosophy is that the lupron injection should be a last resort. like, after major surgery last resort. if a woman wants to try it first thing, he won’t stop her, buuuut after he gives her all the possible short and long term side effects, she usually is eager to explore other options. 

(enter me) 19, three surgeries, dependent on opioid painkillers just to be able to get out of bed in the morning, and now, a fun new symptom! every time i begin to bleed, my heart develops an arrhythmia and i experience constant, burning chest pain. i begin to violently cough up blood. so, my endometriosis has spread to my lungs, may randomly cause my lungs to collapse at literally any moment, and i’ve exhausted all treatment options. except! lupron. the devil drug. the horror stories i heard from other women were insane, and that was just the short-term side effects. my doctor had to go through the process of explaining both short and long term side effects as i cried in the office chair because i knew that i had to take this drug. there was nothing else left for me, and things were getting worse. so i did. i was on it for a year. you want to know what that year was like? 

i was suicidal, homicidal, and fell headfirst into the most severe and detrimental manic episode of my life. i experienced psychotic symptoms, and that along with the aforementioned symptoms led me to a week long stay at the psych ward. i did not have one day without severe joint and bone pain. i broke three bones, all while running or walking, when i had never broken a bone before. i’m already epileptic, but i had two hospital stays for uncontrollable tonic-clonic seizures while i was on it. i couldn’t sleep. i got night sweats and night terrors. i either couldn’t eat a thing or felt absolutely insatiable. regardless, i was always nauseous and got sick a lot. now, six years later, i still deal with worsening osteopenia, making me at high risk to develop osteoporosis. at 25. and the kicker is, it did shit-all for my endometriosis. it made me sick on top of sick on top of sick etc etc. and i’m not a rarity. men and women from all ages and all walks of life have experienced this and worse, and many people, like me, are still dealing with the fallout of it, years or even decades later. i do not believe this drug should be on the market for literally anything at all.

i was an adult and lupron gave me the worst fucking year of my life. and there are parents letting their HEALTHY children be injected with this at age 12, instead of realizing that if their child is so deeply afraid of puberty that they would rather take a decidedly harmful drug that essentially chemically castrates men and puts women in pseudo-menopause for years, let’s maybe try to work out the cause of that fear in some therapy sessions and group art classes and getting involved in sports or something. i can imagine that it’s pushed at gender clinics without touching on the negative effects too much because, well, lupron drugmakers and salespeople have a history of bribing prescribing doctors with trips, fancy dinners, resorts, or straight up telling a doctor they could earn $100K extra a year just by prescribing lupron to their patients. they went to court and were fined $875,000,000 for it, although i’m sure that’s pocket change for a company who profited $826,000,000 off the drug in 2015 alone, and i doubt they cleaned up their act. if a doctor is willing to give a female child lupron simply because she doesn’t “feel like a girl,” while being completely or even just half-way aware of all the negative side effects of it and backlash it’s received in the medical community, they might as well smear their own shit on the hippocratic oath they swore on, and they should probably give up their license while they’re at it.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 2: Friends

TWs in the tags

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Dollie and Kit stay with you all night. At first you think it’s to comfort you, and maybe that’s part of it, but you figure out the real reason when you step out to go to the bathroom and they both follow you, waiting at the door. They’re making sure you don’t try to leave.

The betrayal burns you deeply, but you try not to let it bother you. They must’ve been tortured too.

...Have they been tortured while you were here, without you knowing?

You push away the thought. No matter what, they’re preventing your escape. You know they’re nice people, and you’re sure that in their minds, they’re protecting you. Still, it stings to realize they are not your allies. They are loyal to Jane first and foremost.

You ask them when you're done using the bathroom. “Are you only here with me to make sure I don’t leave?”

Kit doesn’t make eye contact. “We also want to comfort you. We remember our first times. But yes. We’re not going to let you leave, don’t be stupid. She broke our legs our first times, so we couldn't run, but she didn’t for you. She must have some sort of game or test planned, and those always hurt with her, so we’re here to do what broken bones would usually do. Hopefully less painfully, though. She didn’t give Dollie permission to sleep tonight, anyway.”

This explanation fills you with dread and confusion, but you can’t find the willpower to ask more questions just to be given more terrifying answers. You get into bed, pull your covers over your head, and hope that everything will somehow be okay again in the morning.

It's not okay in the morning. When you wake up, Dollie is gone and Kit is asleep beside you. Dollie must be making breakfast, she does that every morning. If you’re quiet, maybe you can slip out without anyone noticing.

You get out of bed, quietly quietly quietly. You can’t wake up Kit. You slowly open the door, and you're almost squeezed out when it creaks loudly. Fuck! You flinch and turn around to look at Kit. Please still be asleep, please still be asleep- Their eyes are open.

You decide to make a run for it, but Kit has you caught in a matter of seconds. How the fuck are they so fast? They grab you from behind, pinning your arms against your sides. You cry out and kick against their shins, but they don’t even flinch. You continue to struggle for a bit before giving up, resolving to try again later.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Please let go, I won’t try to run, I’m sorry, I’ll be good. I know I’m being dumb, I’m sorry.”

Kit releases their hold on your arms, but grabs your right wrist firmly.

“You… you don’t have to beg like that. I’m not like her. I don’t need you to be sorry or regret it, I just need you to be safe.”

You nod. Kit doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“We’re going to go have breakfast now.” They hesitate, but don’t say anything else before pulling you along to the dining room.

Jane’s there. Of course Jane’s there, she’s there every morning and the four of you eat breakfast together. Did you think you'd never have to see her again?

You start fighting Kit again, desperate to get away. You are not going to sit and eat breakfast across the table from someone who tortured you less than 12 hours ago.

Kit is a lot stronger than their physique suggests, and you can’t move them an inch. You’ve always been physically weak, anyway. No, if you’re going to get away, it will not be through brute force. You have to be smart.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You tell them. They nod and don’t release your wrist as they guide you to the bathroom. Only when you’re halfway inside do they let go and stand guard outside the door, giving you a bit of privacy. You close the door softly. What are you going to do? You can’t stay bunkered down in the bathroom forever, you’re going to have to see her again-

You splash some water on your face and try to get your breathing under control. No one’s ever been hurt during breakfast in the time you’ve been here, but was that just to keep you in the dark? You should’ve asked Kit what to expect.

Actually, you can still do that. Maybe…

You open the door, intending to ask Kit if you can talk in the bathroom. But it’s not Kit waiting outside the door anymore.

You yelp and scramble back, curling up in the farthest corner from the door. “Please don’t hurt me, I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you want, please-”

Her giggles cut off your rambling. “You’re adorable! Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to talk.” She’s standing over you, and the shadow of someone who looks like a twelve-year-old should not be this terrifying. You curl into yourself tighter.

“You’re okay. I just had to discipline you, but that doesn’t mean everything has changed. We’re still friends, right? Say we’re still friends.”

“We’re still friends.” The words rush out of you quickly, and she smiles.

“Good! See, there’s no need to be so scared. Has Kitty been telling you scary things? It’s not so bad here, so long as you’re good. You’re going to be good, right?”

You nod frantically. You can't get your breathing under control.

“Leave him alone.” Kit is back at the door and looking scared but determined. You feel cold terror running through you. You haven’t been told, but you know Kit has just done something against the rules.

“Ha! You’re funny, Kitty. Tell me what to do again, see what happens.”

Kit glares, but doesn’t say anything else.

She smirks. “That’s what I thought. Can you take some deep breaths for me, Bunny?”

You try. You try so hard but you’re so, so scared, and worrying that she’ll punish you if you don’t calm down doesn’t help. She laughs.

“That’s alright. You’re not in trouble. I’m going to help you calm down, okay? Just hold still.”

You stare at the ceiling and focus on holding as still as possible. She rolls up the sleeve on your left arm and you gasp when you feel a pinch, but you don’t move, and then it’s over.

“There’s a good pet. You’ll feel calmer soon.” She ruffles your hair, and you recoil so hard your head slams against the wall. Jane laughs.

“Come on, let’s go eat breakfast.” She pulls you off the floor and you’re so lightheaded you end up having to lean on her. Is this the drugs, or a consequence of hyperventilating? A small whimpering noise comes from your throat, and you feel your face grow warm with embarrassment.

“You’re okay. Come on.” She takes you to the table and sits you down. The room is spinning, but you feel your heartbeat start to slow. You focus on eating, avoiding looking at anyone else at the table.

By the time you’re done, you can definitely feel the drugs. Why were you so panicked earlier? You feel so incredibly relaxed that you can’t even imagine being scared, even if you were being tortured. God, you’re so tired. You lean back against your chair, closing your eyes.

“I told you the medicine would help. Feeling better?” It takes a while to process her words, and even longer to realize she’s right next to you. You flinch.

“Oh, that’s some very slow reaction time. Might’ve given you a bit too much. Can you open your eyes for me?” You do. She looks at your eyes and feels your pulse in your neck. “Just a bit more relaxed than I expected, though. You’ll be fine.” She runs her fingers through your hair and you lean into the touch without thinking. Everything is blurry.

She guides you to the couch and turns on a movie, laying you against her side. “You can close your eyes again, Bunny.”

The movie plays in the background and fingers run through your hair and you feel nice.

This isn’t right. There was something else you were supposed to be doing, right? Something was wrong, you shouldn’t be lying against her like this, this isn’t right. You try to express this, but the words aren’t right and your voice is so slurred even you can’t tell what you’re saying. Jane laughs.

“Don’t strain yourself. You’re fine. I gave you some medicine to relax because you were afraid after I disciplined you the first time. Just relax."

And something is wrong with what she just said, you know something is wrong, but it’s so much easier to relax than to follow the thought. So you relax.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Lee Felix x female reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: mature content, lowkey slow burn, breeding kink, soft!dom Felix, creampie.

Word count: 2.975

You and Ashley have been friends for four years now. You went through a lot of hardships together, especially when Ashley had an unplanned pregnancy in the last year of college. Luckily, Mason, now her husband, is an amazing person, and even though it was hard, she was able to graduate. You loved her baby, Arthur, so much, like it was your little brother. You knew that their anniversary was getting closer and you wanted to surprise her.

"No way, I cannot ask you for something like that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, you know I love spending time with Arthur," you said, holding your phone with one hand while you tried to wash the dishes you used to eat dinner with the other. 

"I don't know Y/N..."

"Girl, just stop. I'm not taking a no for an answer. Spending quality time with your husband is important and I know that you have been not getting laid lately."

"You have no idea how hard it is to have sex with a one-year-old making a mess everywhere." You both laughed. 

"I'll go to your house tomorrow at 7 pm. Get a reservation at a nice restaurant, get shaved and, wear your best dress. I want you and Mason to have a good time together."

"Okay, but only because it is our anniversary. I'm gonna take this as a present." Ashley sighed, knowing that she had to say yes anyway.

"Because it is, Ashley. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."

"Bye, honey."

You finished your shores and were planning on watching some videos on youtube when you heard your phone buzzing. You picked it up and saw that you had a message.

Felix, 8:45 pm: Hey

Felix, 8:45 pm: Sorry for messaging late but, are you free tomorrow?

You chuckled. Almost 9 pm wasn't late.

Y/N, 8:46 pm: Sorry, I'm going to my friend's house after work.

Y/N, 8:47 pm: I'm going to babysit her baby so she can go have dinner with her husband.

You met Felix at work, during lunch. He was new there and you have seen him sometimes walking around the place, but you never talked to him. Until one day when he dropped his coffee on you. You remembered how embarrassed he was, his cheeks were red and he profusely apologized. Ever since, you had some small talk with him here and there until one day you gave him his number, saying that he could message you if he needed help with something from work. You know it was bullshit since he was from a different department, but still, you needed an excuse to talk to him. He messaged you a few times but eventually, you thought it was a lost cause.

Y/N, 8:57 pm: Why do you ask?

Felix, 9:00 pm: Nothing.

Felix, 9:01 pm: It's silly.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: If it was that silly, you wouldn't have messaged me.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: Spit it out.

Felix, 9:12 pm: There's a convention for Star Wars fans tomorrow. You said that you loved the movies one time so I bought tickets for you.

Y/N, 9:14 pm: Why didn't you tell me before? 

Felix, 9:15 pm: I didn't know if you would want to go. But it's okay, don't worry about it.

You thought for a moment. You really wanted to spend time with him. Felix was so sweet, respectful and kind. He was also very, very handsome.

Y/N, 9:30 pm: Do you wanna come to my friend's house tomorrow with me? 

You looked at your phone five minutes later and saw that Felix visualized the message but didn't answer. "Congratulations, you fucked it up, Y/N," you said.

You sat on your couch and turned the tv on, planning on finally watching your favorite youtube videos, when you heard your phone buzzing again.

Felix, 9:50 pm: Sure, why not? Is it okay with your friend? She doesn't know me.

You sighed, happy that he answered.

Y/N, 9:51 pm: I'm gonna tell her but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine.

"Is he cute?" Ashley asked, putting on her earring. She looked gorgeous with a tight red dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her dark skin. Her curly hair was in a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. You knew Mason would love it.

"He is very cute. And he's so nice too. I only invited him over because he seems really sweet."

You went to Ashley's house one hour before she would leave for dinner so you could help her get ready, and by help, you meant to force her to wear something that wasn't a t-shirt and jeans.

"How do I look?" she turned around, facing you.

"Gorgeous as always."

Ashley hugged you tight. "Thank you so much, Y/N. You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"But I want to."

The bell rang.

"That's probably Felix," you said.

"Let's go downstairs, I wanna meet this boy."

When you went to the living room you saw Felix talking to Mason.

"Hello, I'm Ashley, nice to meet you."

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you too," Felix raised his hand so he could shake Ashley's hand but she gave him a light hug. You smiled, finding really cute how awkward he was.

"Arthur is sleeping now, he already ate, but if he wakes up, there's milk on the fridge. He usually sleeps all night so you don't have much to worry about."

"Okay, you guys have to go before you're late for dinner," you said, pulling Mason and Ashley towards the door.

"Call me if you need anything. We'll be back tomorrow morning so you'll don't have much trouble with him."

"Don't worry about it. You can take your time."

"Also, don't forg-"

"Baby, we have to go," Mason insisted, holding her hand and trying to get her inside of the car.

"Fine. Bye everyone, see you tomorrow."

You waved at them before going inside and closing the door.

"I'm gonna check on Arthur for a second, you can wait here, okay?" You told Felix.

"Sure."

You went upstairs and checked on Arthur's room. He was sleeping soundly. You felt the urge to lightly pinch his chubby little cute cheeks but you decided not to bother him. You went to the living room again and Felix was sitting on the couch.

"Are you hungry? We bought pizza."

"Uhm, not really."

"Are you sure?" you insisted.

"Okay, one slice would be good."

Felix got up and followed you to the kitchen.

"Your friend has a beautiful house," he said, admiring the place.

"She does. I mean, she's an architect and Mason is an engineer, so they were able to buy a nice place," you cut a piece and handed it to him.

"You said that you studied together."

"We went to the same college, but I graduated in graphic design. For obvious reasons, I don't make as much money as them," you laughed. "Did you always wanted to work in a publishing company?" Felix sat on the balcony standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Honestly, I just wanted to work with what I love. Graphic design is not something that people value but it is what makes me happy." You looked at him and Felix smiled at you, his dimple prominent on his face. He was so cute. "What about you?" "Oh, marketing is definitely not something I dreamed of working with. My family has a long line of people that have been working with it, so I barely had a choice,” Felix confessed. "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." He looked thoughtful like his mind was somewhere else. "I actually wanted to work with art. I love painting." "Really? That's so cool. Do you have a picture of a painting to show me? I would love to see it." Felix hesitated for a while before he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his gallery. "Please don't think I'm weird," he said before showing you the picture. You raised your eyebrows when you saw what was on the screen of his phone. A beautiful painting of you. You realized that he used your profile picture on Facebook as a reference. "Felix, this is amazing." "It took me a week to finish it," he said, holding his hands behind his back, clearly feeling shy. "I love it, really." You and Felix finished eating. You talked more about your plans for the future, the things you wanted to do with your life, your dreams. You were sitting on the couch watching tv when you heard Arthur crying upstairs. "Ops, somebody woke up." You got up to go to his room and you noticed that Felix was following you. "You don't have to go if you don't want to." "It's fine, I wanna help you." When you entered the room, Arthur was up in his crib, deeply crying. "It's okay," you said in a soft tone, picking him up. "I think somebody needs to change its diaper," Felix said. "You are right," you laughed. "Let's change this little boy." You put Arthur on the changing mat and started to change him, but to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Felix laughed. "Let me help you." Felix quickly changed his diaper, he clearly knew what he was doing. "Woah, how do you know that?" you asked, looking at him dumbfounded. He laughed again, amused by your reaction. "I have a small brother so I have changed his diaper plenty of times." "Aaah, that explains a lot."

"Let's see if he wants to eat," Felix said, holding Arthur in his arms. You went to the kitchen and looked for the milk. After pouring it into a pan, you heated it up. "We need to make sure we don't overheat it so it won't burn the baby," Felix said while he tested the milk's temperature. You put it into a baby bottle and gave it to Arthur who promptly drank it. "I guess he was hungry," Felix chuckled. "Do you plan on having kids, Felix?" you looked at him, completely mesmerized by how good he was with kids. "Yes, I love kids. I plan on having two kids one day." "That's so cute, I'm sure you'll be an amazing dad." Felix smiled, making your heart skip a beat. "Do you want to have kids, Y/N?" he looked apprehensive. "Yeah, one day. I still need to find the right person." "Of course." Arthur went back to sleep again when he was done eating. "Not gonna lie, taking care of a baby can be tiring," claimed said, sitting on the couch. Felix sat next to you, his knee touching your leg. "Do you want to watch a movie?" you asked. "Sure!" Twenty minutes later, you started to sleep. Your head felt heavy until it fell on Felix's shoulder. He simply smiled, enjoying the feeling of you so close to him.

The sound of the bell ringing woke you up. You were laying on the couch, a blanket over your body. You looked around and Felix was sleeping on the smaller couch next to yours, with just a pillow under his head. You got up and answered the door. "Hey!" Ashley said, hugging you. "Hi. How was your night?" "It was amazing. Thank you so much, Y/N." Ashley went to the middle of the living room to drop her bag on the couch, Mason following behind. "How's Arthur? Did he behaved?" Mason asked. "Yeah, he slept almost all of the time." You rubbed your eyes, still feeling sleepy. Ashley turned around, seeing Felix sleeping on the couch. "You guys could have slept in the guest room," she laughed. "I'm gonna check on Arthur. What about some breakfast later?" Mason suggested. "That sounds great, but I think we should go home. Besides, you guys need to spend some family time with your baby." You woke Felix up, and while he was trying to get conscious, you chatted with Ashley about dinner. Mason went downstairs with Arthur and you chatted a little more before leaving. "Do you want me to take you home?" Felix asked, leaving Ashley's house by your side. "No, it's okay, I'll get an Uber." "Aw, come on. I'm not gonna let you leave on an Uber so early in the morning." You looked at him, admiring the freckles on his skin. His pink lips looked soft and you had to fight the urge to kiss him. "You know what, okay. I'll go with you." The drive to your house was silent, the music playing on the radio helped you to distract the thoughts on your head. The night you spent with Felix was amazing, seeing him being so sweet like that only made you even more attracted to him. Felix stopped in front of your house. "Well, we are here." "Do you want to come in?" "Oh... uhm, sure, yes, that would be great." You smiled and left the car, running to open the door for him. "Please don't mind the mess," you said, taking some clothes that were on the couch. "Don't worry about it." "Do you want to eat something?" "I'm fine, I'm still full because of the pizza from yesterday." "Okay." There was an awkward silence for a while and you realized you didn't think this through. Invite him over and what? "You know what? There's something I want to eat," Felix said. "Oh, okay. What do you want? I have bread, cereal, we can make panca-" "You." "What?" you looked at him, your eyes wide. "I w-want to eat you." Felix stuttered, his face showing that he was feeling too shy to be saying the words that left his mouth. "Oh, I'm... I-" you didn't have the chance to finish, Felix approached you and kissed you. You were still processing what was happening so you didn't kiss him back yet. Felix noticed and stopped kissing you. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I shoul-" "No! It's okay. I just wasn't expecting." You kissed him, holding his face and tasting his lips. His left hand held the back of your head while the other held your waist. He bit your lower lip, his tongue entering your mouth and playing with yours. He pressed his body against yours and you felt his semi-hard dick. You whined, trying to control your breath. "Do you want to keep going?" Felix asked, his forehead resting against yours. You simply nodded. "Where's your room?" You grabbed his hand, guiding him to your room. Once you were inside, Felix slammed you against the door, pressing his body into yours. He started to grind his clothed cock on your heat and, this time, you couldn't hold your moans anymore. "Felix," was all you managed to say before he kissed you again. A messy kiss that screamed how much he was longing for you, how much he desired you. His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. "I wanna taste you," he said, taking you to the bed. You laid down and he wasted no time to take off your pants, pulling your panties with them in a swift movement. Soon enough, his tongue was exploring your wet lips, savoring the taste of your arousal. Felix played with your clit, his tongue sliding against the sensitive skin. You hoped that your neighbors had already left for work, otherwise you would end up waking them up because of your moans. Felix stopped eating you out to unbutton his shirt. "You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you," he said, his voice deep, making you raise your hips, craving to be filled up. "Felix, please," you moaned. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" "Yes, please." It was embarrassing, you weren't used to begging. Most of the time that you had sex, you were always the one in control. But not with Felix. "Are you on the pill?" Felix asked, taking the rest of his clothes off and pumping his rock-hard cock. "Yeah, please fuck me." "Anything for you," he growled, sliding his dick into your dripping pussy. Felix already started an incessant pounding into you, stealing moans from your throat. "You are so fucking beautiful." You closed your eyes, feeling the burning on your stomach getting stronger. "Fuck, so fucking good, Y/N. You are taking me so well." "Please, don't s-stop." "Turn around, I wanna fuck you from behind." You didn't have much strength left, but Felix helped you out. He was inside of you again, hitting the right spots in this position. Felix felt your pussy tightening against his dick and he started to play with your clit. "Fuck, Felix, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, not being able to control yourself anymore. You came, a long moan leaving your mouth. "I'm gonna cum inside of your little pussy, I'm gonna fill you up so good." He didn't slow his pace, his hips hitting yours in a fast rhythm. "I'm gonna put a baby in your little cute belly, baby girl," he said, closing his eyes as his dick slid in and out of your pussy. "Fuck," you moaned. "You are gonna look so good, all swollen, f-fuck." A few lazy thrusts and Felix came inside of you. He kept thrusting on you for a while until you milked him out. He laid by your side, trying to catch his breath. Felix put his arm on his face, hiding it. He looked completely flustered. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was way too soon for me to let out this embarrassing kinky stuff." "Felix, shut up. It was fucking hot," you smiled, turning around to hug him and rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair, the warmth of his skin making you fall asleep. But sleeping wasn't on Felix's plans. "Ready for round two?"

[kikakat17]

Rants on YJ Season 4 Ep 19 (Spoilers)

For GLTAS wondering why I’m ranting YJ in the GLTAS tag, i’m back to doing my thing where I do gif reactions of episodes and todays episode in particular is why i’m here.

YJ fans, if you can not already tell, this Fantern of Green Lantern Animated series has been loosing her absolute FRICKEN MIND in the last 12 hours or so because of the preview of this episode dropping early and revealing certain cameos. I’ve basically been the “unfollow me now” meme all day. I have soooo many reactions jot down So Jesus take the wheel we’re going full throttle!

I’m going to comment right now about the Legion and Lor-Zod stories because the title of the episode is already sending me into oblivion and i won’t have the mental capacity for it later. Its great! glad we’re getting the information we need from Lor-Zod backstory (can’t believe i didn’t recognize General Zod last episode) and the Legion’s reason for being in that timeline

I was going to flail about the first appearance of Green Lanterns, especially it being Tomar-Re and Kilowag, and then Kevin Michael Richardson comes out of Kilowag’s mouth and i’m already screaming!!! That’s the Kilowag from GLTAS I know!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT’S HIM IT’S HIM IT’S RAZER, 

IT’S RAZER!

His Volkregian design is the same! His sarcasm with Kilowag is the same! and Jason Spisak is voicing him again!!!! 

He did accept the Blue Ring after we last saw it following him GLTAS. And ALSO it’s the fandom design headcanons coming true!! He Has White Hair and Wears a Hood in his BL get up!!!! OMG Fanterns, we stay WINNING!!!

Hey! Vykins here! Glad he’s going to help Rocket see Orion for who he really is, but perhaps a certain rage bunny will help too... ;)

Metron getting into Razer Blue/Red business? 

Not only has Razer been gone for FOUR YEARS (KID, WTF!!) but he has gone back to wanting to rely on anger again?!?! AYA, BABY, COME HOME, YOUR BOYFRIEND NEEDS HELP

I just realized a reason we are getting the cute Forager ship is because Spitfire and Razaya haven’t worked out for Jason Spisak. And i just made myself cry...

Not that New Genises and GL Corp not wanting to help Earth is not disheartening (Come on TOMAR’RE!!) But I love this quip on the “why do we have so many human GL’s” HAHAH and Kilowag chiming in to say Earth has a lot of “potential candidates” since he himself watched Hal Jordan get drop-kicked by a squirrel

Civilian Clothing RAZER!!!! I apologize to everyone who came for YJ but i’mma drop this ol’ GLTAS joke here because this was my first thought--

Not only did we get mentions of how Razer got the Red ring the first time, but the same thing is happening AGAIN! Metron, do you know the last time someone used Razer by messing with his emotions and he found out?!?? It’s happening the same way it’s happening now. Rage Bunny Activated!!!!

I Love Blue Razer, but his Red Lantern designs still slaps. 

Hold up Hold UP HOLD UP!

RED AND BLUE RAZER??!?!? THIS IS A THING, THIS IS HAPPENING!! 

(and he looks so good too)

I was gonna mention how i’m just DONE with Metron but i’m glad i waited to react because I love Orion’s and Vykin’s reactions at the mer mention of him because it’s just like me.

Kilowag “He’s one of the good guys, Kinda” Kilowag PLEASE. 

Razer healing Forager because Blue Lanterns can do that!!!

So many people over the years have come up withe headcanons and fics on how Wally West would meet Razer since they are voiced by the same person (and i’ve done my share of that). At least we get that Jason Spisak interaction between Razer and Forager because it was the Foragers who helped Razer see hope again. 

Razer fixing the statues to look better with the bugs coexisting with new gods is awesome, but Forager clapping seeing herself represented!!

Razer becoming more then what our headcanons ever could predict by making Razer not only become a Blue Lantern but accept that rage is a part of him and not give up the red ring. Our Kid really has grown up and I got to live and SEE IT

Kilowag joking about Rainbow Razer is AWESOME!! But what’s more epic is Razer being the one to reach out for a hug this time when last time they saw each other it was Kilowag first!!

YOU CAN’T JUST SNEAK IN NOT JUST ANY GLTAS SOUNDTRACK SCORE BUT “RENEWED HOPE” IN THAT GOODBYE SCENE AND FOLLOW UP WITH RAZER SAYING--

“I will find you, Aya. I will”

WITHOUT MAKING ME CRY DON’T TOUCH ME, DON’T TALK TO ME, I’M ASCENDING--

I’m sorry but all the YJ stuff that happened at the end is beyond my mental grasp.

Because first off not only did Greg and Brandon gif us Fanterns some form of closure with GLTAS, but they let the OG Crew like Giancarlo and Jim Kreig come back for one final hoorah! FANTERNS UNITE WE ARE POPPING BOTTLES TONIGHT

I’m gonna have to make a seperate post on diving deeper into the GLTAS stuff we got... But as this is still a YJ related post I am reminded we got some information from Zod and the Legion to make us all panic like

See you next week, my YJ freaks!!

And for my fellow Fanterns...

[rielzero]

I have Dissociative Amnesia

(No, I do not have DID, dissociative amnesia is a side effect of cptsd, ptsd, depression, trauma in general. Emotional neglect and emotional abuse, or medication can also be bad contributors to memory issues.) My experience with dissociative amnesia can range from random recalls to something incredibly unrelated to what I was previously doing, or visually triggered due something familiar.

One frustrating thing is that it simply messes up your capability to; chronically remember, if you’d ask me to put a timeline together I’d miss several things and come back and edit everything constantly. Its infuriating when you’re so used to being gaslit and told you’re lying when you’re not. You’re not ‘’making up a story’’ you’re piecing together your story. And at times the details dwindle away. They don’t want to stick around because remembering them is painful too.

Then there’s also the damage to short term memory. If stuff fails to make it into some longer form memory, I’ll forget seconds after I was informed. This, as a neurodivergent person is extremely awful to me. A lot of people have the habit to make last minute infodumps, expecting me to remember. But because I wasn’t mentally prepared, I’ll have sensory overload and the information simply won’t stick at all. It’s like throwing paint at a wall but it somehow won’t stain the wall, it just glides off the the floor and sinks away.

Some examples of how I experience dissociative amnesia and memory damage in my daily life:

1. I’m training the habit to do my laundry on monday. Sometimes the laundry machine will beep to announce its ended, and I’m thinking ‘’just a sec, I’m coming’’ I end up with realizing 5 hours later my wet laundry is not inside the dryer, its untouched in the laundry machine. 

2. I try to lunch around 12. I look at the clock at 11.55, remember I’m hungry but get distracted despite telling myself several times to shut it down and have lunch. Its 13.00 when I finally get to do so, despite feeling hungry for an hour. The same goes with drinking water.

3. I’m told to do a chore, I’m about to do the chore and stand in a room disoriented.

4. I know I have an appointment in the day, I make the mental note that around that hour someone will ring the doorbell. The doorbell goes off, I respond startled, because the entire thing escaped my mind and it makes me feel disoriented.

5. A friend tells me a personal fact about them, I understand this is important. I mentally instill in myself its important. I forget the personal fact entirely when it becomes important again, and I hate myself.

6. I forget conversations or information I shared with people. ‘’Hey, what about [subject]?’’ ‘’when.. when did I ever tell you this? I don’t recall telling you this.’’

7. I over-explain and forget mid-sentence during my panicky over-explaining what I was trying to convey that was so important because its attached to a past memory. This is not just annoying, it can shoot me into a panic attack.

8. Being told to remember stuff for someone with better recollective ability. When I forget and get blamed despite them remembering on their own; this is just mean and kills my self confidence.

9. Remembering something important out of nowhere, immediately forgetting it and sitting there for 30 minutes trying to re-locate the trigger for the memory.

10. Suddenly remembering an entire chapter of my life. Because I want to be able to have a chronical sense of being, I start a tangent and write in my personal space to my friends (in this case a group chat) while I’m anxious i might be info-dumping or coming over negative, this is solely to be able to establish the memory again, it happened. I’m not actually venting the story, I’m doing it for my own sake.

11. Forgetting to have breakfast despite having trained myself to eat breakfast. There were no actual feasible distractions.

12. There’s a memory attached to a certain object, thing, or word. But for some reason despite nostalgia and familiarity I have no auditory, visual, memory recollection aside from a certain feeling.

13. Being unable to remember certain people or interactions with them in any detail no matter how much they impacted my life in the past. Not being able to tell if I was nice or not, but I can remember a certain vibe this person gave off. If the person may have hurt me really badly, I feel a certain anxiety around them. If the person was nice, I feel a warm connection.

14. [sees something] brain: remember when people used this against you? [cringes]

15. toxic person: I’ve changed. Brain: there’s totally trauma this person caused, but I’m just gonna let you be defenseless again. [remembers after the same thing repeats] ‘’fuck’’

16. forgetting language. Literally forgetting meaning of entire phrases or words. Feeling like nothing makes sense.

17. Wakes up with a plan and suddenly becomes disoriented, unable to tell what my plan was, and unable to proceed with the day as a result.

18. Anxiety / disorientation that comes with every memory or social memory related issue. The stress is physically draining and can make me feel ill or trigger headaches.

19. Crying about something you remembered, and all the sudden you don’t know why you’re crying. Same goes of getting angry all the sudden about something, or any other emotion.

edit: added 2 more

20. Not being able to tell whether certain memories are real or not, despite them feeling real. This can be disorienting.

21. Having several different versions of a singular memory, not being able to tell which one is real, or them feeling all equally as real as one another. The ‘’true’’ memory is in a sense lost.

Some stuff I actively do to help me train my short term memory: attachment and linking.

Connecting certain subjects to one another helps, as a neurodivergent person you often link one or two things together. Because they sound similar or remind you of each other. I’ve been told by people I ‘’derail’’ conversations, but the subjects are linked, and the link is obvious. example: You’re eating pizza tonight. Connected to did you feed guinea pigs tomatoes today or not? Why is it connected? Pizza tends to have tomato sauche.

Another thing is important to remind yourself you’re human. You are designed to mess up. Do not belittle or cuss yourself out for something you can’t help.

My memory issues are the result of a very complicated childhood filled with things I don’t want to elaborate on. There’s no reason to blame myself for things that were done to me. Harm that was inflicted on me. If certain people get mad at my memory issues, then they should remember they are part of the cause.

And while they can be mad at me, I have more anger for them than I should have for myself.

At least I’m trying to focus on being able to remember things so my daily life gets easier.

Encourage yourself. Positive attachment. Your meaning of life is what you find most important in your life. You’re not evil for being flawed or having disabilities. What’s truly evil is the lack of empathy others have to you. You’re not a villain.

I try to tell myself that this is real, this is happening, even if something I can’t remember the rest of my story.

And no, do not give me unsolicited advice. I am managing more than you think.

I didn’t write this to search for help, but to inform others of my experience should they find some sort of kinship.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Lost self confidence

Anon: Can I request a lil one-shot where y/n has been on the team for a while and she put on some weight/starts feeling insecure about it and Gibbs helps her feel better? :> If not it's okay (Preferably a lot of fluff, angst & smut up to you)

Anon: Can I ask for a plus sized reader and gibbs please? I never see them :( Maybe someone says something about her weight when theyre working a case or something and he does the gibbs-legendary-elevator-conversation??? OuO

I thought those two requests work well together. Enjoy, lovely anons! ❤️

Warnings: punch, mention of blood, hurtful comments about weight

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra

~~~~~

Your body changed. A lot. More than you like to admit.

You have been avoiding mirrors for a while now, but as you stand in front of it right now, only dressed in underwear, you have to face it. Your body changed and you don’t like it. Actually, you hate it.

As you look at your stomach that used to be flat, your hips that are larger, the celulitis… you can’t help but to think it’s no wonder you’re alone. Who could you attract, looking like this? Not many people and definitely not the man you wish you had. He has probably noticed how your body is different. Maybe before, you stood a chance with the man but not anymore. It’s a lost cause.

You put some clothes on and left for work.

You and your team are working on a tricky case, you are not impatient to get into the office today. But as always, you put on your best smile and pretend that everything is okay. Even though it’s most definitely not.

You skipped breakfast this morning - on purpose - but when you sit at your desk, you can see a brown bag sitting there. You look inside; donuts. Not just regular donuts, but your two favorites.

“Gibbs’s treat.” Tony lets you know.

“What’s the occasion?” you casually answer, putting the bag aside. It’s definitely a bad idea to eat them.

“No occasion. You’re just his favorite,”

You can’t help but smile at this. Not that it’s true, but it feels nice anyway. Before, you would have been happy about your boss’s attention, but not today. “Aren’t you going to eat them?”

“I’m not hungry. Do you want them?”

Tony grabs the bag before you know it. At least, you won’t have to throw them away.

You put yourself into work quickly after. You need to take your mind off your insecurities and how bad you feel about yourself. Tony tries to make casual conversation, just being his old self but as you barely answer, he realizes that something’s wrong with you. He just doesn’t know what.

“You’re staring.” You say to him, without looking up from your computer screen.

“You’re in a bad mood.” He states.

“Am not.”

“Y/N, please.” He stands up from his desk and walks up to yours. “I’m a trained investigator. Talk to me.”

“Not a chance.” You keep working, avoiding eye contact. You’re scared that he may read into you, or worse; that you may cry if he starts to ask too many questions.

“Did Gibbs get the order wrong?” He jokes. He doesn’t mean wrong at all, but it sets you off.

“Just-- leave me alone, DiNozzo.”

You practically jump for your chair, grab your laptop and walk away from the bullpen, leaving your coworker in awe. He’s not sure what just happened, but he’s more convinced that something’s really not okay with you.

You spend the next two hours hiding in the conference room. You didn’t work much, you mostly cried and felt sorry for yourself. You really hate yourself and your body right now. It’s not about gaining some weight, it’s also about how lonely you feel. You love your team more than anything, they really are like your family but when you get home at night, it’s just you. You and your thoughts. You and your loneliness.

You just want someone to get home to. Someone to cuddle, someone to love and who loves you back, someone to fall asleep with. Just someone.

You had your face buried in your arms when you heard the door opening. You look up, ashamed. Gibbs is standing here.

He closes the door behind him and walks to you. “You okay, Y/N?” he softly asks.

“Y-yeah. Just a bit tired.”

“You know, if DiNozzo pissed you off, you can tell me.”

You chuckle. “Nah, it’s nothing he did. I guess I got up on the wrong foot this morning, that’s it.”

Gibbs did let it go - for now - but you knew he didn’t buy any of it.

That is later's concern though, there is some news on the case and you need to get going. The afternoon went better; your mind was focused on the case, you didn’t have time to think of the rest. It’s only when you get back home that it hits again. Before taking a shower, you put a sheet on the big mirror in your bedroom. You don’t want to face your reflection for now.

*****

The next morning, you are in a better mood. Not entirely, you still skipped breakfast and avoided all the mirrors but you made a decision: you won’t let the team know. You won’t let them see you’re going through a tough time. It would only make things worse.

Everything’s going okay until that stupid lawyer shows up. You never wanted to see him again after hooking up with him over a year ago. He seemed nice and good looking, he flirted with you the whole time he was in the office, so when he invited you for a drink, you said yes.

Your agreement had something to do with Gibbs’s flirting with that shrink but to this day, you keep telling yourself that it hadn’t.

After a few drinks, you let the lawyer kiss you and before you knew it, you took him home and you had a one night stand.

The sex wasn’t the problem, you actually had a lot of fun. The problem was the next day.

He was gone before you woke up - still not a problem. But when Gibbs yelled at you for giving him some private information, you understood your mistake. The man had used you. While you were sleeping, he looked into your files and found the information he needed to save his client’s butt.

After that, Gibbs gave you the silent treatment for weeks. And he stopped being mad at you after you came to see him in his basement and did your mea culpa. No one ever talked about it since.

But now, the same man is standing in the middle of the bullpen. You growled to yourself before going in.

You don’t greet him at all, just sit at your desk. “Y/N? That’s you?” he says, apparently shocked.

You look at him briefly and don’t answer.

“My god, what happened to you?” he adds.

“Excuse you?” you snap.

“God, if you had been looking like this last year, I wouldn’t have been able to use you.”

His sentence feels like a punch in your stomach, it hurts. But it shouldn’t and you know it. But it still does. You stay there a moment, not knowing if you want to cry and beat the crap out of him. Probably both at the same, but you don’t move or don’t say a thing, you’re like frozen. You barely don’t notice when Gibbs pushes the man towards the elevator.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Ziva asks.

In the elevator

“Overprotective much, Gibbs?” the lawyer tries to appear confident and unafraid. He has his back against the wall, and in a second, he can hear Gibbs’s fist hitting a few inches away from his head. If the fist had touched his nose, he probably would have needed plastic surgery.

“Ever in your life, you disrespect a woman like that again, and especially--especially not Y/N.”

The lawyer made many people angry over the years, but never had he seen a man as angry as Gibbs looks right now.

“The only reason my hand is in this wall and not your face right now, is because she wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, but trust me when I say that all I want to do right now is to shoot you right in your precious parts.”

Gibbs is panting from anger. He can’t remember the last time he said that many words at once. But there’s no way that he or anyone else can disrespect you like this. Never, under his watch.

“So I’m gonna be very clear, you give that case to someone else. I don’t give a shit who, you just do it. And I don’t ever want to see your face again. Cause if I do, you’ll be so disfigured, you won’t be able to get another woman. Ever.”

“I could sue you for those threats, Special Agent Gibbs.”

“Are you planning to?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, in that case--”

This time, Gibbs’s fist hit the nose.

Meanwhile, in the bullpen

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Ziva asks.

“Yeah-yeah,” you clearly lie as your eyes are watering.

Your coworker isn’t buying it. She takes a step forward and hugs you softly. “Please, don’t let him get to you.” she whispers in your ear. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Those words make you cry. You are not really buying them, but it does something to hear them. And you know deep inside that Ziva wouldn’t say something she doesn’t think.

As she keeps hugging, you can feel someone else’s arms wrapping around both of you. It’s Tony and shortly after, Tim is joining. “I think we should call Ducky. We’re going to have a crime scene.” Tony jokes to light the mood.

“I don’t want Gibbs to put himself in trouble for me.” you sadly say.

“Y/N, if Gibbs hadn’t taken him in the elevator, we would all have jumped on him.” Tim tells you. Which surprises you because Tim is the one to avoid a fight as much as he can.

“Also, the only reason I’m not asking you out is because of Rule 12.”

You are about to answer to Tony when you can hear the elevator’s doors opening. You let go of one another and watch Gibbs as he comes back to you and takes you by the hand. “Someone may have to call 911.” he tells the rest of the team.

Gibbs takes you to the other elevator, the one that leads to the lower floors, where Abby’s lab and Autopsy are. But of course, he switches the button as soon as the doors close. He doesn’t say a thing, he just hugs you tight. “Your hand is blue, Gibbs.” you cry in his neck.

“Yeah and his nose is red, who cares.” he kisses your hair. “I don’t want you to cry because of him, Y/N. And especially not because of what he said.”

“But Gibbs--”

“Not ‘but’, Y/N. Look at me.” he softly grabs your chin with his non-injured hand and forces you to look into his eyes. “You may not believe me right now, but you’re beautiful, Y/N. Sexy. Hot.” you uncontrollably shake your head, not buying a word he says. “I know I’m not the best with words, so I’ll let my actions speak.”

Gibbs ducks his head just a bit and closes the gap between his lips and yours. He softly kisses. You probably have never been kissed this softly before. Gibbs is so gentle and tender, his lips move slowly but expertedly. You’re literally melting under him.

The kiss may have lasted for minutes, hours, you don’t really know. You lost track of time, as if the world had stopped spinning.

“I’m sorry I waited for something like this to happen to do it. I’ve wanted this for a very long time, Y/N.”

“Me, too, Gibbs. But I’m not sure that’s the best time. I’ve lost all self confidence and--”

He kisses you again, undoubtedly to make you shut up. “I’ll help you find it again. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You rest your forehead against his, some tears are still rolling down your cheeks. “You’re not bad with words.”

“I’m still better with touch.”

[spooderboyandtincan]

I wish you would write a fic... about the Superfamily 💖

“I want a baby.”

Steve looks up at his husband. “Tony, what the fuck?”

“A-a baby. A kid. A child.” Tony sits next to him on the couch. His eyes are shining with excitement.

“We can’t get pregnant,” Steve points out, turning back to the book in his hands. Tony grabs it and throws it on the coffee table. “Hey!”

“There are other- other options,” Tony says, grasping Steve’s hand tightly and staring into his baby blue eyes nervously. “Adoption. We could adopt.”

The supersoldier sighs, shaking his head. “Tones, we can’t take care of a baby. How about a dog? Or a cat, cats are always-”

“Steve, please,” Tony whispers, eyes suddenly filled with tears. Steve frowns and cups his husband’s cheeks. “I want a baby. Can you just- just please, think about it. Please.”

Steve is so shocked, by Tony’s tears, by the desperate tone in his voice, by the eagerness on every inch of his face, that he nods. “I will,” he promises.

The love, the relief, and the excitement in Tony’s eyes make it all worth it.

~~~~~

At first, Steve thinks Tony has forgotten about the whole baby thing.

He should have known better.

Two weeks later, Tony barges into the training room, breathing heavily, eyes wild.

“Tony, what the hell? What happened?” He hurries towards his husband. In lieu of greeting, Tony shoves a Starkpad into his hands.

“I found him,” he says breathlessly.

“Who?” Steve asks, still eyeing the other man worriedly. He still hasn’t looked at the Starkpad. Tony gestures to it in frustration.

“Our baby.”

Steve freezes. He looks at the pad.

It’s a series of emails from one Mary Parker. Apparently, she and her husband recently split up and she is no longer able to provide for her newborn son.

“Tony, honey…” he says slowly, apologetically. “I don’t know if we can take care of a baby.”

Something in Tony’s face breaks. “Right,” he whispers, more to himself than Steve. “Right, what-what was I thinking? We- I can’t be a father.” Steve opens his mouth, to apologize, to take it back, to do anything, but Tony turns before he can and walks back to the elevator.

Steve blinks back the tears in his eyes. He’s broken something inside of Tony, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Doesn’t know if he can, really.

He looks back at the Starkpad, re-reading the emails, filled with so much enthusiasm. We would love to adopt Peter! Can we meet him soon? and He’s perfect. He’s perfect for us. My husband and I can’t wait to meet him!

What have I done? Steve thinks.

He scrolls down, and finds a picture of a tiny- literally tiny, the kid could easily fit in his palm- baby, swaddled in a pink blanket with a soft hat on his head. He’s covered in wires and tubes, but even Steve has to admit it- he looks perfect.

~~~~~

Tony won’t talk to him. It’s fair, but it hurts all the same. When they get ready for bed, Tony opens his mouth for the first time in hours and informs him that he’s sleeping on the couch.

Steve knows he deserves it.

The next morning, JARVIS tells him that Tony is in the lab and should not be disturbed. Is it Steve’s imagination, or does the AI sound colder than usual?

They can’t take care of a baby, though. Raising a tiny human for 18+ years? They just can’t do that.

Right?

He pulls up the picture of the baby- no, Peter.

What harm is there in meeting him? he thinks.

Tony ignores the knocking (pounding) on the lab's reflective glass walls until Steve finally shouts “I wanna meet Peter!”

The door slides open. “Really?” Tony says, disbelief clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, I really do.”

Tony stares at him, then bursts into tears, sinking into his chest weakly. Steve does his best to soothe him before realizing that these are happy tears, relieved ones, and that Tony couldn’t stop crying even if he tried.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks his husband gently. Tony laughs, shakes his head. “Tony.”

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t.”

Steve frowns sadly. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

The billionaire just shrugs. “Maybe you were right.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says firmly, waiting until their eyes meet. “You’re gonna be a great father. We can do it.”

Tony stares back at him, and Steve realizes suddenly how terrified his spouse is. “We can do it,” he says again.

“We can do it,” Tony echoes, and maybe, just for a second, he believes him.

~~~~~

From the instant they lay eyes on Peter, they’re both hooked. He’s even tinier in person, with rosy cheeks, thin brown curls, beautiful big doe eyes, with ten tiny little fingers and ten tiny little toes.

He has a breathing tube, which nearly sends Tony into a panic attack until Mary explains that it’s only there for a few more days, just in case. Now Tony is terrified that Peter will get sick and won’t be able to breathe, but Mary assures him that he’s been stable for a few days now and should be fine.

Tony marvels at the fact that this tiny human is only five days old. Only five days in the world, and already so much has happened. “He’s beautiful,” he whispers, gazing down into the incubator. Steve squeezes his shoulder.

Mary smiles. “You can hold him, if you want,” she says.

“Really?!” Tony gasps, suddenly filled with excitement and terror. “Is-is it safe?”

“Wouldn't lie to you, would I?” the woman laughs, and plucks Peter out of the incubator. “Here ya go.”

Tony’s hands are shaking as he accepts the baby, cradling the tiny body to his chest gingerly, horrified he might somehow hurt this precious child. “You got it,” Mary says.

Tony looks at Peer- really looks at him, taking in the pale freckles on the bridge on his nose, his cupid’s bow lips, his dainty little eyelashes and his adorable chocolate eyes. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Hi, Peter. Hiya, Pete. I-I’m your dad, baby. I’m Dad.” Tears are streaming down his face, and he sniffs loudly. Peter blinks a little and makes a curious cooing noise. “Sorry, honey. So sorry.” He’s starting to sob now, but he doesn’t want to let his baby go. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders and grasps Peter’s hand between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger.

“Hey Peter,” he says. He’s not great with emotions, especially with a stranger around, even though Mary seems like a wonderful woman. “Nice to meetcha, kiddo. I’m, um- I’m your other dad. I’m your Papa.” He’s crying now too. They’re both wondering how they ever could have lived before this sweet child came into their lives, and it’s barely been five minutes.

Tony laughs, sobs, and laughs again. “He’s perfect,” he says to Mary, who has been staring at a painting across the hall politely.

She grins. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate for this little guy to go into foster care. You two seem like you’re gonna be great dads.”

The rest of the hour feels like a blur for the two new parents, the only thing solid each other and their baby boy. They sign adoption papers numbly, Tony still cradling the baby in his arms. They get a quick instruction on how to change diapers, prepare bottles, deal with fevers, earaches, and teething, and then they’re in the car with Happy, Peter strapped into a carseat, finally going home.

They haven’t had time to set up a nursery, really, they haven’t had time for anything. Happy buys them a bassinet, a mobile, and a shit ton of baby food and baby formula.

They sit on the couch together, Peter once again in Tony’s arms, fast asleep. There are going to be a lot of hurdles ahead, a lot of crying, a lot of worrying, but above all, a lot of love.

“I love you so much, Peter,” Tony whispers.

“I love you too, Peter,” Steve whispers.

~~~~~

ST*RKERS DNI

~~~~~

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!)

[kelpiemomma]

Was thinking about the difference between Dawn and Akari last night for Jumping the Rails and enjoying considering how their lives differ. Since I need a distraction I’m gonna expand a lil more here.

Considering i think a handful of people followed me from Lifetime Guarantee to my tumblr page I think it’s fairly safe to post here. mild spoilers for behavior differences below the read more.

(there’s a lot here, sorry- many thoughts, head super full)

age

Both Dawn and Akari are 16, though Akari is months older than Dawn. When it comes to Jumping the Rails, Akari is just a couple months from her 17th birthday and Dawn is more like a few months after her 16th.

behavior

When it comes to behavior Dawn is extremely outgoing. She’s not afraid to chase after what she wants or what she thinks is right which can lead to her making mistakes because she jumped to conclusions. She’s brave, brash, and bold- things may scare her but she’s going to try and swallow that fear and do it anyway. She somewhat lacks a filter and is a little brutally honest when she can get away with it. Not that she doesn’t know how to keep secrets, because she does (and what her mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her...!), but she much prefers to cut straight to the point. She hates beating around a bush. Dawn isn’t afraid to complain that something is too difficult for her- but even while she does, she’s going to keep hacking at it even if it’s making things worse.

When she’s confused about something or uncertain she will keep a bit more quiet about it until she’s certain of the path she wants to take. It doesn’t normally require more than a couple hours of thought- she is sixteen and impatient. When she’s well and truly stumped about how to proceed - IE, realizing that Ingo has no memories of before - she takes a lot more time to consider what the best method of pushing forward is.

She’s a lot like the proverbial bull in the china shop- she will charge right on through and deal with the repercussions later. Repercussions that, in the past, didn’t typically fall to her because of her age. Unfortunately for Dawn, she’s now in Hisui where kids have jobs by the time they’re 15 and are treated much more like adults. She’s going to be hit with consequences if she’s not careful.

Compared to Dawn, Akari is reserved and almost timid about approaching others. When she first arrived in Hisui at 12 she was a little more outgoing and tried to be friendly, but once she realized her attempts would get her almost nowhere with the majority of the village she stopped reaching out. She’s still friendly and willing to help, but she isn’t typically the one you’ll see introducing herself first. Along with that, because so much has been put on her shoulders and so much is constantly asked of her she’s rather quiet. She doesn’t complain about what is asked or expected of her, which is something Ingo has noticed and tried to get her to change. Unfortunately he is two years and change behind that mental decision.

Akari’s much more willing to accept limitations and work on advancing herself to get around them instead of just charging through them- she’s not a person who asks forgiveness instead of permission. In her youth she made a couple of poor decisions trying to be that way that ended up with the villagers seeing her as a potential danger to them, requiring Laventon to step in and say she was just young and trying to be helpful. She’s very aware of how her actions might be perceived and is constantly putting on a mask when she’s in Jubilife Village so that hopefully, one day, they’ll stop seeing her as the girl who came from the rift.

She’s very much aware, after living in Hisui for four years and change, that actions have consequences- even well-meaning ones. She’s seen the bodies of surveyors brought back after they tried returning a Shinx cub to its pride or tried to shield a prey pokemon from a predator’s attack. She’s had her own injuries from not paying enough attention to her surroundings and seen what happens when surveyors get distracted. Because of this she’s typically pretty aware and observant. However, when she’s hyper-aware of what goes on around her she does exhaust herself more quickly and requires more rest.

The only thing Akari ever chased after was Ingo’s affection. When she realized that someone might actually see her as more than just a time bomb from the rift she immediately latched onto him. Slowly at first, but then she began getting closer to him- when he didn’t treat her with wariness or like he was keeping her at least ten feet away with a thick pole, he quickly went to the top of her favorite people list. When Ingo left her in the Icelands due to Laventon’s acknowledgment of their familial behavior (which she didn’t know was the reason at the time) she thought it was her fault- with all the distrust from the villagers, she’s got much lower self-esteem than Dawn. Ingo has since done his best to correct that but he’s fighting an uphill battle.

nurture

We’re never told what happened to Dawn’s dad so I won’t extrapolate on that. However, from a very young age Dawn was raised by a single mother. Johanna taught Dawn from the very start that she should be proud of who she is and not let anyone divert her from her goals (though she SHOULD listen to her mother and please consider her own experiences and advice). Anything and everything that caught Dawn’s eye - from pokemon beauty competitions to battles - Johanna did her best to encourage her and sign her up for. When Dawn declared she wanted to do a pokemon journey at 12 Johanna agreed. She got all the forms filled out, helped Dawn fill out what she needed to, and sent her daughter off with all the supplies she could think to send and a kiss, telling her that if she ever needed a rest or a break she could come home.

Even on her pokemon journey, which is typically something that is taken alone, Dawn had support. Lucas, arguably a researcher and not a trainer, would frequently stop by to provide support when she was stumped and Barry, who assigned himself as her rival, was always pushing her cheerfully. Though she may or may not have realized it, both of them helped in taking care of her so she never really ran out of supplies or felt alone. Even when she was facing Team Galactic, chasing down grunts and going up against bosses, she always knew she could call on someone if she needed help. Maybe not the authorities due to regulations and rules they had to follow, but if she needed someone to get into and out of trouble with her she had Barry and Lucas and even a couple other trainers she made friends with on her journey.

She manage to challenge the elite four right before her 16th birthday, officially beating Cynthia at age 15. She was crediting with taking down Team Galactic as a 14 year old. Because of these incredible feats at a young age she has a bit of an ego, despite having been helped along the way. It’s not that she’s not grateful, it’s just that she put in the majority of the work- training her team and following trails immediately, so she kind of sees herself as... not infallible but certainly a step above almost everyone else. She tried a battle facility once and, when she realized she had to put in a bit more thought to her battles, decided she’d stick with the gyms challenge.

She’s a social butterfly who loves being the champion and the face of the Sinnoh region. She has a hard time being on her own and still lives with her mother, visiting Barry and Lucas frequently. She doesn’t mind the paparazzi and, honestly, kind of enjoys fucking with them. She’s a bit of a pompous little shit but she is a good kid. Despite her inflated sense of self-importance she has no issues getting on the level of a new trainer and helping them out, or stopping by schools and gyms semi-unexpectedly to hang out. Professor Rowan thinks she’s a little bit like Professor Oak’s grandson but doesn’t make the comparison out loud.

Akari, on the other hand, was dumped into Hisui completely unceremoniously and without anyone to guide her. She was dropped on the beach as a 12 year old, very nearly 13, but with no memories of her past. Because of Professor Laventon’s soft heart and awe at her ability to catch his pokemon he vouched for her and tried to take care of her upon her arrival, but he’s also an older man who is easily engrossed in his work and would frequently forget to check on her. This meant Akari was more or less raising herself in a village of people who saw her as something that might explode on them one day, especially once she started trying to help them out with pokemon- the same pokemon who had attacked their village before the guard stations and walls were put up.

Laventon and Rei were the most outwardly friendly for a long time. Cyllene never treated Akari differently than anyone else and Pesselle was often more curious if falling from the rift meant she was different from them some way internally- though she had no way to explore that curiosity. Despite this, none of them really... touched her. There was always an unintentional, instinctive flinch away from her touches- you know, just in case there really was a difference between them because of the fact she came from beyond the rift.

Between the distrust of the villagers and the lack of physical touch, Akari ended up focusing much more on her pokemon. They didn’t seem to care that she came from beyond the rift at all and never treated her differently than any other human (besides the bonds between them). Because she wanted to be able to focus on her pokemon Akari always did her best to keep her team low, waiting until C4 evolved into a Quilava before catching a Zubat- Swimp. She swapped out pokemon when she had to but preferred sticking with her team.

Apart from them, she did not receive the same support as Dawn and so never really relied on anyone until she met Ingo. He was the first person who sought her out and gave her aid, which kind of... freaked her out for a while. She was good with the touches - as she was incredibly touch-starved after almost three years of maybe a grasp on her shoulders or hands for just a moment - but the fact that he... offered her food? Showed her the safest places to walk around the Highlands? Pointed out pokemon behavior that she didn’t know??? Kind of... threw her for a loop. It took her a while to be able to depend on him and that trust was a little broken when he claimed emergency in the Highlands right before she went up against Lord Avalugg. The fact that he came to find her when she was banished quickly fixed it- especially when he refused to let them be separated again.

Due to the long-term lack of support, Akari has issues believing herself to be worthy of support and affection. Ingo has tried to change this but four years of believing yourself to be some sort of monster, with no other memory, is a hard thing to correct. Laventon and Rei, after her lack of disappearance with the rift, have treated her much more friendly and openly. They’ve taken notes from Ingo (some literal ones as well) and are much more physically affectionate with her. Pesselle will allow Akari to hold her hand when she does a checkup, and Cyllene even lets Akari hang off her back sometimes when she does rounds in Jubilife. The physical touch more than anything has done wonders for Akari’s self esteem and she no longer believes herself to be the monster she once thought she was- though the villagers of Jubilife still are hesitant to trust her.

Compared to Dawn, Akari is very much a homebody. She wouldn’t say she has social anxiety but large amounts of people do make her nervous. She doesn’t like the stares or whispers. Her preferred amount of people is a maximum of four others around her, with a high preference to just one or two. Ingo doesn’t really count as a ‘person’ of tolerance in her mind, he simply is her dad and therefore is safety- his company is always welcome and never tiresome. Part of the reason Akari no longer lives in Jubilife, though, and has gone to live with Ingo is due to the amount of people who have immigrated to it. The crowds are bigger than they were before and it’s no secret that she’s the one who fell from the rift and catches most of the pokemon, leading to plenty of people looking at her. She avoids Jubilife as much as she can- Kamado is just a small part of her unease around the place.

team

Dawn’s team is well-rounded because she didn’t want to be stuck in a niche like the typical gym leaders. She admired Cynthia’s team from a young age and sought to not be able to get taken down by one pokemon. Her team consists of the following:

Empoleon (water/steel) (starter) - brave nature - male Frosslass (ice/ghost) - lonely nature - female Garchomp (dragon/ground) (regular) - adamant nature - male Mr Mime (psychic/fairy) - bold nature - male Houndoom (fire/dark) - naughty nature - female Tropius (grass/flying) - impish nature - male

None of them have nicknames due to the fact that most people she knew never gave their pokemon nicknames- it’s a cultural thing. She is particularly attached to her Empoleon, as he was her starter and sometimes refers to him as “Number One”. She treats all of her team well, though compared to Akari’s team she’s... not as close to them. They’re still pokemon in her eyes, even if they are her partners.

Akari’s team is well-rounded more for the sake of her safety. If she kept a team of all fire-types she would have been well screwed in the Coastlands and Highlands. If she kept a team of primarily water-types, she would have just as many issues elsewhere. Though she doesn’t keep a full team, leaving her last two belt loops open for pokemon that need to discover humans are okay, her team is incredibly dedicated to her due to the amount of time they’ve spent together. Compared to most pokemon teams, even among the Diamond and Pearl Clans and their relationships with their pokemon, Akari and her team are remarkably like a sibling group. She is very much at ease with them and everything they do.

C4 - Typhlosion (fire/ghost) - careful nature Swimp - Crobat (flying/poison) - hasty nature Mint - Empoleon (water/steel) - relaxed nature Mama - Garchomp (dragon/ground) (alpha)- brave nature

All of Akari’s pokemon have names because... well, why wouldn’t they? For one, they’re her family and so they deserve names. Each of their names mean something- C4 was named for “when in doubt, C4″; Swimp was named so because he was a rather small Zubat and she meant to call him ‘Shrimp’ but... Swimp was cuter, just as her now-Crobat is; Mint has an affection for anything mint-flavored and is also an incredibly hardy pokemon, much like real mint is; Mama is the caregiver and oldest behaving member of the team. She was an alpha Gabite taking care of Gibles before Akari caught her and she sees the rest of the team as her new charges and family.

[butwhyduh]

The Art Gallery

Kyle Rayner x batsis!reader fluff

Summary: the reader has a charity benefit at an art gallery and hopes that Kyle will actually show up because he’s not the most punctual boyfriend.

“Be there. Show up,” you begged him and Kyle nodded quickly.

“I’ll be there. I promise,” he said. It was the 3rd time that week that he had flaked on you. Why was he the sweetest guy when he was with you but a complete flake otherwise?

Kyle kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug. “Don’t worry. I won’t miss it for the world,” he promised. “I know how important this show is to you.”

“Thank you,” you said giving him a kiss.

3 hours later

Kyle was having a much harder time keeping his promise. It was an hour until the showing and he was currently fighting some kind of 12 leg tentacle monster in the Bronx. He used a giant hammer like they use at a carnival the smack the monster who was currently trying to eat him.

His phone went off. He knew it was you. But his hands were a little busy holding the monster from biting him with its nasty beak. God, what kind of cryptid is this??

“Hey Kyle, I hope you are on your way and that’s why you aren’t answering. I’m getting ready to leave and I’m going to be leaving in the next 30 minutes. I’m going to be mad if you don’t show at all and I’m hoping you ride with me. This benefit,” you said on his voicemail. “It’s a big deal for me. I didn’t have the easiest childhood growing up and this is my way to give back. Change the actual foster home that I grew up in for the better. If you don’t show.... Kyle, I don’t know how things will work. I really need to know you’re there for me. Anyways, call me back when you get the chance. I’ve got to go.”

Kyle got the alert that he got a voicemail just as he threw a green boulder at the monster. It growled at him but was slower to get up. The voicemail was forgotten as he swung a wrecking ball at it. The beast went down with a thud. Kyle dropped the wrecking ball on it and it finally stopped moving. Right before it threw up purple slime all over him.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned. Kyle checked his watch. 15 minutes to be on time. And he had to shower and throw on a suit before going across town. Good thing he was Green Lantern. Kyle started flying over when his phone started ringing.

“Hey, I’m on the way. Work had me tangled up but I’m on the way,” he said quickly.

“Your work as a freelance artist?” You asked, suspiciously. “If you don’t want to come Kyle, you should just say that,” you said angrily. Yeah, he deserved that.

“No I do,” he said in earnest. “Trust me. I’ll be there. I know how important it is to you. I’ve got to go so I can get there.”

You sighed heavily. “Fine. But you better show,” you warned.

Kyle was in the process of unlocking his door when he heard a scream from down the block. No no no, that isn’t what he needs today. But clearly someone’s in trouble. He hurried over to see 4 guys surrounding a woman who was clutching her purse in fear.

“Seriously? You can’t do anything better with your time?” He said before flying down between her and them. It didn’t take much time to disable them and tie them up but it was 5 minutes he couldn’t get back. Kyle didn’t even wait to see the cops arrive before he ducked inside to shower and change.

It took 7 minutes to scrub all the goo off and 4 minutes to put on a suit, which Kyle thought was impressive. Now if he could just fly across town he would only be 5 minutes late.

Kyle got halfway there before he saw an emergency. A freakin train was driving dangerously fast into the city. Kyle looked at his suit and groaned. It was probably gonna get ruined, even under the green lantern suit. He flew close to the train to see the conductor panicking and pressing all kind of buttons. Okay, that wasn’t going to fix it.

Kyle made a new brake on the train and pulled the lever. For a minute the train started slowing before the brake snapped and the train sped up. “Shit, okay okay. Don’t panic.” Kyle strapped a huge parachute and 4 brakes on the train and it slowed down a lot but not enough. Not enough for the sharp corner it was going to need to make. Kyle created a Superman to push on the front of the train. He groaned under the strain of multiple projections. The train slowed down more but he couldn’t tell if it was enough for the curve. Kyle joined the Superman and pushed the train with his ring, willing it to slow. It whipped towards its side as it sped around the corner and he could hear the passengers screaming. Kyle created a huge hamburger helper hand to hold the train upright and it made it through the curve in one piece.

The train engineer stood up in triumph and the train started slowing on its own. It finally came to a stop on a bridge over the highway. Passengers cheered to be safe. Kyle winced when he realized he would need to get these passengers to safety off of the tracks. He made some green gondolas that started carrying the passengers to the street where cops were already arriving. It took another 20 minutes to get them all to safety.

Kyle looked at his phone as he flew of. “Shit,” he breathed. He was 20 minutes late and you had left 3 more messages. He hurried to the side entrance and almost went in without taking his green lantern suit off. He grabbed some flowers from the flower bed along the walkway, sorry, to give to you.

“Hey,” Kyle said straightening his tie as he walked over to you. He hid the collar that was black with whatever was on the train. You grinned and suddenly his frantic activity was worth it. You gave him a big hug and took the flowers from him.

“You made it,” you said, kissing his cheek. You threaded your fingers in his and gave him a tour of the gallery. “And this is the acting coordinator of the exhibit,” you said, introducing Kyle to an older woman. She shook his hand with a polite smile.

“Yes your girlfriend, she’s our biggest contributor and has made a huge difference, both for local artists and her charity. It’s pretty amazing. I couldn’t have done it without her. Do you smell motor oil,” she asked with a frown. “Or some kind of chemical smell?”

“Probably me,” he laughed nervously. “Had a flat tire. That’s why I’m late.”

“Oh that would make sense,” she nodded before excusing herself to speak to other people.

“There’s something I want to show you,” you said with a shy grin. Kyle looked at you curiously. You took his hand and a bit of a breath and guided him over to a particular piece on the wall.

It was a charcoal sketch of a woman in a bed, clearly nude but under covers, asleep. To be more precise, it was you. You watched Kyle nervously. He stared at the art and the frame and the small metal plate beneath it that simply said his name and phone number along with the title ‘freelance artist.’ He stared a little too long and you started to get nervous that he didn’t like it. You should have asked. You grasped your elbow in your hand and Kyle suddenly turned to you with a serious look.

“You didn’t have to-“

“I wanted to,” you answered his unasked question. Kyle grinned and picked you up in a hug. He twirled you in a circle and you giggled while holding his shoulder. “Put me down,” you yelped with laughter.

“Sorry, yeah. Not the place,” he said with a nervous laugh at the people staring. He rubbed the back of his neck and big his lip. “That’s amazing tho. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I did chose local artists and I happen to know a guy...” you said playfully.

“Gosh I hope it’s me,” Kyle replied with a grin.

“Of course it is,” you said holding his hand. “So why do you actually smell like industrial oil? And why were you late?”

“Well, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” he said giving you a knowing look.

“I’m tingling with anticipation,” you answered dryly. “You’re okay that I picked that particular sketch...”

“Mixed feelings on my girlfriend naked in an art gallery.... but it is a really good likeness to you...... I’m kidding. It’s great,” he said kissing your forehead.

“Okay I’ve got to get back to work but there is a ton of food to try,” you said.

“Fancy food?” He said suspiciously.

“Well yeah. But we’ll go get burgers afterwards,” you said walking off. Kyle had a little grin on his face as he watched you work.

Of course he had no idea that a week later his phone would be ringing off the hook looking for work.

[stabbysideblog]

BBH’s Prison visit (scene-by-scene)

(To make things easier I’m going to put the timestamp for the END of each scene I talk about)

Link to the vod 

Very long post warning! This is going to center on Dream so if you aren’t into that don’t click the read more. 

28:46 - Bbh comes up to Dream and even walks past him a bit before Dream turns and starts moving again. This is our first sign of him being spacey. After he says hello he takes a deep breath. This sounds like the type of breath you take to calm down. 

29:14 - We can hear how Dream’s voice is different even from the last time we heard him. To make sure I checked Tommy’s vod and it is completely different. He speaks slower, with more spaces, less enunciation, sometimes there’s a slight slurr to his voice. Bbh asks how he’s doing and he replies and goes to spin his clock. I don’t know how intentional this is but BBH asks what he’s doing and Dream stops and looks at the floor instead of at BBH. 

29:33 - Bbh asks if spinning his clock is what Dream does in his free time and Dream says yes. He used to write but he burned a lot of his books. He doesn’t say why. We can assume based off what he said he doesn’t write anymore. That means all he has to do is spin his clock round and round. After BBH opens the chest 6 spaces are empty. One book is on the lectern. He assumedly burnt all the books Tommy made him write. Why? He never elabirates on this so we don’t know

29:52 - Bbh asks if Dream likes it in here and Dream takes almost 3 seconds to respond. He describes it as “really good”. Before while bbh is talking about the cell he doesn’t say anything. He looks at the lava but doesn’t move towards it.

30:11 - Dream talks about how he gets potatoes :] But they’re raw :[. He goes close to the lava but comes back to talk to bad. Also whenever he walks he runs. Dream is notoriously very active, he bounces around he can’t do that in the cell so instead he runs from place to place. “he said he- I tried to get out and so he made it so I couldn’t have visitors for a few days but” He completely drops the potatoes conversation to say that then drops this conversation. 

30:47 - Bbh tells Dream that he’s done bad things that got him in there. Dream doesn’t argue he simply repeats “that’s true”. He also says he gets to “think and think and think... and play with my clock”. In that sentence he looks at the damage pot dispenser then plays with his clock. 

31:36 -  When Bbh asks if Dream wants to hear what’s going on outside he perks up somewhat and asks how George and Sapnap are doing. He remarks after bbh says they probably miss that they haven’t visited him. He then makes a reason for it because there were a few days he couldn’t get visitors. Bbh accidentally rubs in that they haven’t come by at all and Dream goes and spins his clock for 31:24 - 31:33. He says nothing in this time, then he asks what’s happening outside. 

32:41 - While bbh talks about that’s going on outside Dream spins his clock, he stops to chuckle at what Tommy’s up to. Bad says he’s sure a lot of people miss Dream while Dream is turned around and Dream snaps to attention looking at bad. He laughs at Techno “still doing the whole anarchy thing” then asks for a 3rd time what is happening outside. He goes back to spinning his clock while Bbh talks. At this point it’s very obvious how much Dream uses the clock. It’s like he relies on it. 

33:28 - Bbh talks to Dream about  the egg. He simply says “I remember the egg” and “that’s intresting” before going back and spinning his clock. “I don’t really have anything else other than the clock”. That’s sadly true. As far as he knows everyone hates him, he’s lost everything. The only thing he has left is his clock. Bbh asks if he’s named it and he has but he doesn't want too say the name. Instead of that he just keeps spinning it.

34:29 - Dream takes out at book and starts writing in it. Bbh asks what he’s writing but Dream doesn't reply simply giving bad the completed book. It’s titled “thank you!” and the inside says “thank you for visiting me badboyhalo!” Dream tells bad he won’t be able to take it out. Bbh says that once Dream gets out he can take it with him. Dream doesn't reply and spins his clock. If you haven’t noticed how much he uses this clock you’re blind. He says that his sentence is forever when bad asks. “Forevers not that long” Way to rub it in bad. At least Dream chuckles a little.

35:40 - Bad tells him he likes what he’s done with the place before realizing how that sounds. Dream moves his clock to the other side of the room. “I like to watch it and then when it hits halfway *pause* then *pause* then I’m happy”. Note that in this chunk Dream is particularly bad at replying to bbh. They watch the clock move together. Dream says that it was “awesome” he seems to not have been the biggest fan of redecotaring because he moves his clock back to it’s original location. 

36:43 - Dream makes a sound like when you are sad and have to take a breath before you start crying. He says that he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Bad mentions that Dream has a heat source. From that we can assume that Dream’s tiny prison is pretty darn hot. He also asks how long he’e been in there suggesting that he has lost track of time. That’s pretty common in people who are in solitary confinement. Bad gives a timeline of a few weeks to 2 weeks. For reference the United Nations says solitary confinement for more than 15 days is torture. 

37:20 - Bad asks who’s come and visit Dream, Dream says only Tommy and bbh is surprised. Dream remarks that “he’s the only one actually, until you” and goes to stand close to the lava. He goes close to it a second time while he justifies no one visiting by saying there’s limited visiting hours and overtime more people will (come visit). 

38:18 - Dream tells bbh about the #epic prank he does on Sam where he burns his clock so he can see Sam and say hi. The clock that he’s spent most of his visit spinning. So he can see someone else. I wonder if Sam decided not to give Dream another clock what else he would do to get Sam to visit. Bbh asks if he gets in trouble for burning his clock and Dream says sometimes he gets less potatoes. 

"oh so he starves you"

 "no I'm not s- I dunno- I wouldn't say I'm starving but-" 

"you have 3 square meals a day?" 

"........... i have potatoes"

The concerning parts are how much he stumbles over his words and the I wouldn’t say I’m starving. What would you say you are then? 

39:38 - Dream chuckles and throws his clock into lava. It’s gone now. Let’s see if he acts any different. Dream moves around a bunch while talking about what will happen later, you can hear his chuckle and smile at his ‘prank’. Dream tells bad that Sam is going to make a system so that the potatoes are dropped in so he doesn't have to see him to give him potatoes. Bbh says that he should keep sam from doing it because doesn’t it brighten his day? Dream admits it does but everything here is automated so it’ll make it better. Bbh asks if awesamdude treats Dream well and Dream says he does while he keeps glancing at the lava.

40:28 - Dream sniffles and tells bbh that it’s fine in here. He has his clock and his book and,,, he’s happy in here...right? He finishes off that sentence by sniffling and clearing his throat. All signs point to him not being happy in here. Where before he would spin his clock now he,,,, tries not to cry. Bbh asks if he’s allowed to have anything else, Dream tells him he can ask. While bbh talks about how maybe he could get a potted plant he sniffles again. Dream is obviously upset but he does as Dream does and says he’s okay and things are fine. 

42:00 - Bbh asks who Dream wants to come visit him, he says that he wants george and sapnap to come visit him. Bbh accidentally makes it sound like they don’t want to visit Dream, he says that they probably just need to be reminded that Dream is available for visitors. Dream takes 4 seconds to reply and it’s just a sad “yea”. Bbh tells him to look on the bright side and Dream just looks at the floor. I think that he knows that George and Sapnap don’t like/hate him. He also takes awhile to reply to Bbh saying that he’s been on good behavior right? If that’s because he hasn’t or because Sam’s idea of good behavior is hard for Dream we don’t know. 

42:51 - Dream throws himself into lava and Bbh reacts with horror yelling at him what is he doing? He says that sometimes he swims in there. What exactly made him decide to swim in the lava? Maybe him remembering how he he lost his friends, maybe him realizing he’ll never be free, maybe he was bored? We don’t know. What we do know is in this cell healthy coping mechanisms do not exist. They aren’t allowed to exist by nature of it. He tells bab that going into the lava keeps him entertained and sometimes he likes to set himself on fire with it. He demonstrates this and while bad asks if it’s a prank he just chuckles. This demonstrates how in the cell he’s willing to put himself physically into harms way for any more stimulation. It’s sad honestly. 

44:12 - Dream says that bbh’s time is probably almost up and thanks him for visiting him. Bbh says he wants to get Dream a pet and improve his living conditions. Dream talks about how long it takes to break a block, he once sat there for over 20 minutes with basically no progress. He helped design the prison and knows that if he broke a block the guard would be teleported in (and kill him). He realizes if bbh becomes a guard it could be a way to get him to come visit him :D he’ll simply punch a block for hours until it breaks so the people tasked to kill him can be there. Dream is desperate for human contact. He realizes that would make awesam really mad and he doesn’t want to do that. 

44:35 - Bbh says maybe he can get his sentence commuted from forever to 10 or 20 years. Dream says he’d like that if he has good behavior. I can’t help but feel noones idea of good behavior is lining up. Sam wants to think and see Dream as little as possible. Dream, I don’t know what Dream considers good behavior. Bbh sees good behavior as not trying to escape or messing with anything. Bbh says he doesn't wanna get Dream’s hopes but but Dream should look in the bright side. Dream sniffles and clears his throat. As this goes on it gets harder for him to not cry it seems. Bad tells Dream to look on the bright side and Dream says alright in a way that obviously suggests he wont. 

45:43 - Bad says that he’ll come visit Dream again really soon. He says he’ll bring George and Sapnap, Dream reminds him only 1 person can visit at a time. Bad says then he’ll schedule for them to visit. Bbh alost saays that they need to visit their friend but instead says they need to visit you (Dream) instead. From Dream’s POV this celents that they don’t care for him anymore. Bbh ends his visit and Dream somehow sounds more dejected than ever. 

50:42 - Sam while HOLDING a clock says that he might not give Dream a new clock. It also doesn’t matter whether Dream knows if it’s daytime or not. Bbh seems to have picked up how important the clock is to Dream. Sam also asks if Dream “said anything(????)” while he was in there. He also says that Dream swims in a lot a lot and usually he just wants attention. Sam also says with the way Dream has been acting that he probably won’t get his sentence commuted.

 Overall very concerning! From the way Dream relied on an inanimate object and the moment it was he started sniffling, to how he talked and sounded different, to how he swims in lava and sets himself on fire for fun, to how he’s starved if he misbehaves, to how he was spaced out and slow to respond. This all paints a picture of someone not doing well but pretending he isn’t. If he were to not get a new clock, and sam installs the automated potatoes machine I feel like he would get worse much faster. Unless bbh gets on that prison reform fast it’s not looking good for him. Not even getting on how the warden of the prison hates his guts. 

[fruitydiaz-archived]

my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Shocker

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 8.1k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: angst, lots of feelings, but a lot of those are fluffy, happy feelings lol

a/n: there’s not much left so say except for thank you. I hope you enjoy, I tried my best!

Shocker (finale)

series masterlist

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” -George Orwell ‘1984’

Sunday, 3:12 am – immediately following the events of date #7

           The fact that the lights are still on isn’t surprising in the least. It’s been like this after every date. Yoongi is no exception, apparently.

           He pauses outside the door, resting his hand gently against the doorknob. It’s nearly silent, but he can hear familiar voices speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the door. He stares at the dark door, unable to shake the memory of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen ankle from his mind. You had sounded so worried, so afraid of what comes next.

           You’d mumbled out his name when you made it to your bed, the exhaustion on your face momentarily replaced with a look he could only interpret as blind fear. And the way you’d looked at him, wide eyed with a quivering lip…he doesn’t think you noticed, but he nearly caved. He almost laid down beside you and taken you into his arms, deeming the time on the beach not enough.

           With you, it was never enough. Slivers of time and longing looks you never noticed; it would never be enough.

           If the botched date wasn’t evidence enough, it was then, when you gazed up at him and mumbled out his name, Yoongi knew.

           Tonight…it wasn’t enough.

           So he just leaned forward and watched how your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked your nose.

           “I know.”

          Jungkook straightens up from where he was slumped on the couch beside Jin the second the door opens and Yoongi walks in. The scattered conversation that they had all been using as a distraction fades out as each boy focuses in on the newcomer.

           Hobi is practically invisible beneath the huge sweatshirt he wears, his face barely visible as he speaks. “How was it?”

           For some reason or another, there’s always been a postdate analysis of sorts. It’s usually just like this: all of the boys gathered up in the living room in various states of consciousness. Jimin was the only one to slide by without an impromptu meeting after his date, partially because he was too exhausted to see straight and also because everyone knew he’d tell them all the details at breakfast the next morning. He did, and Taehyung actually managed to break a bowl when he lost it over the story of how you and Jimin got kicked out of the basilica.

           Namjoon, on the other hand, had been pretty grim when he realized that Jimin had been teasing you endlessly about your little kiss.

           Now, Yoongi shuffles inside and plops down unceremoniously beside Namjoon, who looks a little worried at the silence. Dropping his heads in his hands, Yoongi rubs at his face before leaning back against the couch.

           “It was fine, if you don’t count the twisted ankle.”

           “What?” Jimin sputter out, suddenly wide awake. “She got hurt?”

           “What happened?” Hobi follows up, leaning forward until he’s nearly slipping off of the couch. “Is she alright?”

           Yoongi is quick to explain your little accident, omitting your tears from the storytelling. He doesn’t want to embarrass you or make the others feel bad. The others listen with rapt attention, Jungkook’s mouth in a little ‘o’ all throughout.

           Jin remains silent on the couch, as he usually does during these little meetings. He’ll occasionally comment on something or voice a question, but he tends to remain fairly quiet. Drinking in the information, eyes clear despite the late hour.

           It’s unnerving.

           “So…it’s not a bad injury?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms.

           “No, she’s fine,” Yoongi reassures. “Just tired. She went straight to bed after I dropped her off.”

           Taehyung grins knowingly. “Adorable.”

           Everyone is silent as everyone turns to their thoughts, the same thing on everyone’s mind. It’s Hobi again that breaks the silence, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet.

           “Well, that’s that. It’s over. Gentlemen,” he eyes everyone around the room, shuffling toward the hallway where the warmth of his bed calls to him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

           “Wait!” Jungkook also hops to his feet, much more alert than the older boy. “What happens now?”

           There are a few non-committal answers from around the room, but two people remain silent. Meeting eyes from across the space, Jin and Yoongi share a silent agreement.

           Jin clears his throat, and it’s only then that the boys realize that it’s been hours since he last spoke. With a soft smile he utters, “We let her choose. Whatever she wants, if she wants to go back to normal or decides to date someone.” His eyes return to Yoongi, and suddenly the memory of two years prior is laid out before them. “Then…we let her go.”

           “I’m just saying, if he didn’t want you to find it, he would’ve hidden it in his underwear drawer. Sock drawer is a stupid way to go.”

           You sip at the horchata Gina brought over for you, huffing out a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

           Gina shrugs. “Just saying. So what did you get up to yesterday?”

           Yesterday. You had woken up with red eyes and puffy cheeks from all the crying you had done the night before. Slightly embarrassed but more feeling miserable for yourself, you had crawled to the shower and tried to get your thoughts straight.

           When you emerged, you had a couple of texts to welcome you. They were from Jimin and Taehyung, welcoming you back to the groupchat. There were plenty of happy emojis and balloons taking up the messages, enough to make you crack a smile. You shot back a thank you text, letting out a sigh of relief.

           It was good to be back.

           When Namjoon texted and tentatively asked about the state of your ankle and if you were open to them popping over, you took nearly an hour to decide. Nervous about seeing all of them, cautious because you had no idea what would happen if you were in the same room.

           Who would you radiate toward, without even realizing?

           It was then, when that question popped up, that you realized that you had known the answer all along.

           It was startling, how the answer had been there all along. So simple, yet so unattainable.  

           “The boys wanted to check in on me,” you sigh, glaring down at your ankle. It’s still sore, but much better today. Although it’s safe to say you won’t be flying kites anytime soon.

           “But…?”

           “The thought of all seven of them in my little apartment at the same time was overwhelming,” you admit. “I needed a minute. To think. And I know I’ve had weeks to think about it, but yesterday was the first time I felt like I could see the full picture…if that makes sense.”

           Gina nods thoughtfully, reaching over to refill your glass of horchata. The sun is steadily making its way to the horizon, another day wrapping up. “It does. You’ve been going out with someone different each week, you’re probably suffering from information overload after all of those dates and the confession on the pact…how are you not exhausted?”

           “I was yesterday. I was torn – Gina, I want to go back to normal so bad. Just the way it was.”

           “Ignorance is bliss.”

           You set your glass down, pushing back from the table and crossing your arms. “Wouldn’t that be better?” You muse. “That way, nobody gets hurt.”

           Gina tilts her head to one side, eyes flashing. A smirk forms on her face. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t already decided on someone.” She leans forward in her seat, staring into your soul. “Who?”

           You school your features into a neutral position. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

           “No, no. You don’t get to shut me out. You have feelings for someone, don’t you!” Gina points an accusing finger at you, letting out a startled laugh. “You totally do! What went on in your head, yesterday? Or maybe you’ve loved them for a while, and this is what it took to realize it-”

           “I can’t do it, Gina.” Your eyes are wide as you plead more with yourself than her. “I can’t do that to the others.”

           “And what, you plan to just let him go?”

           Dropping your head into your hands, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Do I have another choice?”

           The scrape of the chair against the floor alerts you to Gina rising from her seat, and you expect her to leave. She has every right to, you’re frustrated with yourself as well. However, a second later she’s rubbing your back, urging you to look up. Once you do, she offers you a small smile.

           “You always have a choice.”

           Gina stays for a couple more hours, offering her support as you blubber on about how worried you are. While your heart is urging you to throw caution to the wind and go after what you’ve wanted for longer than you ever realized before, your mind does a great job of conjuring up different reactions from the others.

           All of them are depressing. Every time you close your eyes you’re met with the crestfallen expressions of your best friends. Scenarios play out in your head, where you’re blissfully happy for a few seconds before everything comes tumbling down.

           “You’ve gotta get out of your head,” Gina chides as she eases off the couch. “You’re miserable.”

           You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s just…I can’t do anything. I can’t. That’s horrible of me.”

           “They’re grown boys; they knew what they were getting themselves into with this. Just…tell me something before I head out.”

           “…ok.”

           Gina pauses before the door, hands on her hips. “Why him? Because from where I’m sitting, they all love you.”

           The question takes you by surprise, but the answer is rolling off your tongue in an instant. “I want to be loved, yes. But more than that…I want to be understood.” You stare at a framed photo on the wall, solemn. “He understands me.”

           You don’t hear when Gina leaves, the thoughts in your head too loud. Instead you stay seated on the couch, chewing on your lip. Wondering.

           Remembering.

           All the times he’d been there – he was always there for you, how could you never notice? – never drawing attention to himself. Just there. Just in case you needed him.

           What’s stopping you?

           A knock on the door stops your train of thought, and you hobble up to your feet. Swinging the door open you say, “Did you forget something?”

           Jin stands on your porch, clutching a garment bag to his chest. His ears are bright red, set aflame by the setting sun. He’s wearing his glasses, which he pushes up on his nose. “I…no?”

           “Oh!” You step back, wincing a little from your ankle. “I thought you were Gina! I…hey.”

           “Hey.” Shuffling on his feet, Jin looks down at the bag he’s holding, seeming to remember why he was here in the first place. “Oh, here. I know it’s a little late, but I got your dress dry cleaned and…well, yeah. Here you go.”

           His hands tremble a bit, but you don’t comment as you take the bag from him. “Thank you. Your sweater is actually hanging up in my room…why don’t you come in while I grab it?”

           “Can I?” Jin looks down at your doorstep, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to intrude…”

           “Just come in!” You call over your shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “This will only take a second. Besides, it’s cold outside.”

           The door clicks shut, Jin stepping inside and shoving his hands in his pockets. You rush inside your room, throwing your dress on a hanger in the closet and scanning your clothes for Jin’s blue sweater. When you find it – grinning at the whale on the front – you pause. Holding it in your hands, you take a deep breath.

           “Hey,” Jin’s voice rings out down the hallway. You catch a slight tremble in his tone, which is mirrored by your shaking hands. “I a-actually wanted to talk to you for a second. If that’s ok…?”

           Clearing your voice of the emotion that’s riding you, you respond. “Just come down here.”

           A second later Jin is tentatively peeking inside your room, giving you a nervous smile. His eyes then land on your dresser, widening a bit.

           “So you did steal my copy!”

           Gasping, you toss Jin’s sweater at him and lunge for the dresser. There’s the pact, out in the open for anyone to see. “I- I was gonna give it back-”

           “I can’t believe you’d steal from me.”

           “It was for a good cause!”

           Jin rolls his eyes, laughing as he snatches the pact from you and holds it up in the air. “Nuh-uh, I’m taking this home with me. You’ve had it for long enough.” He makes a point of folding it up and sticking it in his back pocket, staring down at you with an amused expression.

           Suddenly you’re transported to his living room, dancing in his arms. Staring up at him like he put the stars in the sky while he looks at you like you’re the forbidden fruit.

           Is that why he’s here, now? To finally give in to the temptation?

           From the way the smile slides off his lips, you can tell that he’s remembering the same moment. His mouth opens a bit, looking as though he’s about to speak. After a moment, it shuts. Then he slowly reaches out, arms encircling you as he studies your expression. Waiting for any moment of discomfort.

           The second Jin pulls you into his embrace and you rest your head against his chest, his shoulders deflate and he lets out a long sigh.

           It’s not a sigh of relief.

           “Do you remember the first time we hung out together? Jimin wanted to bring you to the Spring Day set, and it was freezing. We were all complaining about our toes falling off and yelling at Namjoon for writing about such a cold song.”

           You chuckle, nodding. Jin’s voice rumbles through his chest as he continues. “I thought that it was so embarrassing, too. We were complaining like kids in front of Jimin’s pretty friend. I figured that you’d never want to hang out with us again. I’ll never forget how angry Jimin was with us after, saying that we were probably making you uncomfortable. Obviously, we all said that it was stupid of him to bring you to a freezing music video set for our first meeting.”

           Jin tightens his grip, laying his cheek atop your head and swaying gently back and forth. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it, but you don’t ask. Not as he’s walking down memory lane. It feels like it’s been centuries since you first met.

           “You know what I remember the most about you from that day?”

           You hum, nuzzling in a little closer. Hanging on for just a moment longer.

           “You never complained. Like, at all.” Jin cups your chin, making you look up at him. He smiles softly, but his eyes are sad. “I thought it was a superpower or something, seriously. You just smiled and joked around with Jungkook and Tae. If you were cold or uncomfortable or even weirded out by us, you didn’t say anything.”

           You roll your eyes, latching your hands behind Jin’s back. “I was definitely weirded out, but I didn’t want Jimin to feel bad. He was so excited for me to meet you guys.”

           Jin chuckles, the sound momentarily warming you up. “But the point is, you didn’t complain. You’ve always been like that. Even now, being dragged on seven dates and having to deal with us figuring out our own feelings, you never once complained. You never backed away.”

           The sadness that lingers in Jin’s eyes has you tightening your hold, wondering how to get rid of that sorrow. Your train of thought is interrupted when Jin brushes back a strand of hair, softly tucking it behind your ear.

           “You are beautiful and a wonder. You will always be important to me, no matter where life takes us. You will always be that person that I’ll drop everything for, ok?” Jin takes another long, adoring look at you before reaching behind him and gathering your hands in his. He slowly pulls away from you, staring down at where he holds your hands. “I might be an idiot at times, but I can tell when I’m in the way.”

           As he takes a step back, you watch as he drops your hands. “Jin, wait,” you reach out, grasping his arm as he moves to turn away. “Jin- Seokjin, what’s going on-”

           “You and Yoongi have that in common, did you know that?” Jin offers you a close-lipped smile, placing his hand on yours where you cling to his jacket. His thumb swipes over your knuckles once – twice – before he’s stepping back yet again. “Neither of you are complainers. I mean sure, there’s the funny complaints that everyone makes. But he has a penchant for suffering silently. I’d say he’s a bit of a masochist, but that’d be a lie. He just cares.”

           Jin has made it to your doorway now, where he pauses and leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.”

           “Jin,” you gasp out, “what are you doing?”

           One corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “Me?” He shifts his weight to his other leg. “Letting go.”

           “What are you even talking about?”

           “Don’t get me wrong, I intend to complain. You’ll get an official complaint in the mail soon enough, just give it three to five business days to get here. But I realized something a little while ago: complainers always find some new to complain about. And while that sucks, it also means that they move on. They find something new, no matter how long it takes.”

           He keeps looking at you with that sad smile, and it’s ripping the ground out from under you. You want to scream, throw something, or perhaps dissolve into tears. But nothing happens. You just keep breathing.

           In.

           Then out.

           And Jin keeps speaking. He’s rambling now, something he does when he’s nervous. His brows are still furrowed, and you wonder if he’s making this up as he goes. If the only thing he knew what that he had to find a way in, only to find a way out.

           “As twisted as my logic sounds, I think it gives me hope. Eventually, I’ll be ok. Probably be complaining about the weather or maybe even a girl in no time. Just give me some time, and I’ll bounce back.”

           “Jin,” you croak out. “…you don’t complain, not about these things. Why are you doing this? S-stop doing this.”

           “But it’s like I said: Yoongi doesn’t complain. Jagiya, I know him. Better than you do.” Jin closes his eyes, pinching them shut before opening them again. “He’ll never get over you. I mean it. And if my logic holds true…that means that you’ll never move past him, either.”

           Folding his sweater over his arm, Jin steps back into the hallway. You step forward, your stomach churning.

           “Seokjin!”

           He hesitates for a single heartbeat, almost looking like he’ll turn back around and declare it all some twisted joke. Like he’ll pull you back into his arms and admit that he’s been inside his memories for the past two weeks, replaying “La Vie en Rose” as he lies awake at night.

           But he doesn’t. He refuses to look at you as he marches down the hallway. As he walks, he continues to speak.

           “I was angry that night, when you called him instead of me. When you accidentally deleted your essay. He left, and I was stuck at home, pining after you like some teenage boy. I think even then, I knew that it wouldn’t be me in the end. But I’d die trying.” He laughs, joking but it doesn’t come off very funny.

           It’s when he’s reached the door and goes to pull it open that you call out to him again, sounding like you’re on the verge of tears. “But it was you, wasn’t it?” You run a hand through your hair. “You wrote the note, o-on the back of the pact.”

           With his hand on the doorknob, Jin glances back at you over his shoulder. Now you understand why he couldn’t stand to look at you a moment earlier. Those are tears glistening in his eyes.

           He looks at you for a long moment, eyes so clear and bare that you can see the very moment he lays down his weapons and admits defeat. “Would it change anything?”

           He’s already twisting the doorknob, but just before he opens the door, he hesitates. Waiting for an answer, you realize. Some small part of him still pulses with hope, even after all he’s said.

           You can’t give that hope.

           “There’s a difference, you know,” Jin mumbles, eyes dropping. “Just because I loved you first doesn’t mean I can love you the best. I think sometimes the world forgets that.”

           And then he’s gone.

           In.

           Out.

           Perhaps the most shocking development has been the fact that you’re still breathing. When Jin leaves your apartment, the sky doesn’t fall. Your heart, while aching, doesn’t shatter into a million little pieces. The quiet hum of your dishwasher continues on, oblivious to all that’s transpired.

           A few tears slip down your cheeks, which you quickly wipe away. When your dishwasher buzzes, you drift over to it as though in a daze. Wiping your hands on your dishtowel, you move to open the dishwasher.

           But it’s that dishtowel with stitched stars that Yoongi gifted you forever ago. Stars.

           You are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.

           Snatching the towel from where it hands off your oven, you fumble for your phone. Dishes long forgotten, you bring the phone up to your ear and nervously tap your foot. “C’mon, c’mon…”

           “Jagiya?”

           “Hobi!”

           “Hey, what’s up? How’s your ankle?”

           You chew on your lip, struggling to regain composure. “I- yeah. The ankle’s fine. Look, I need to cash in my question now.”

           Hobi chuckles on the other side of the phone. “That’s what I was afraid of. Wanna come over to the studio?”

           “Be there soon.”

           It’s dark outside, countless stars winking down at you as you hurry inside the Hybe building. You throw a glare up at them, wondering if they were in on it the entire time. If the stars have always been aware that Min Yoongi had no interest in them, much preferring your company to the twinkling lights in the heavens.

It’s your first time in here, the boys having recently moved into the new building. As such, you’re instantly disoriented. At a loss for where to go, you call Hobi.

“Hey, where…?”

“Turn around!”

You whirl around to see the elevator doors sliding open, Hobi hopping out. “Hey, you made it!” He instantly pulls you in for a hug, which you gratefully receive. “Everything ok, jagi?”

It’s then that you realize how you must look. Tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes don’t make for the best combination. “Oh…yeah. I’m alright.”

Hobi doesn’t believe you at all, but he doesn’t push it. Not here, out in the open lobby. Instead he pulls you into the elevator, punching one of the buttons. “Long day?”

You laugh quietly, leaning up against the wall of the elevator. “A little, yeah. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Oh, we’re recording a new Japanese OST. Wanna listen to it once we get up there?”

“Is that even a question?”

It feels unbelievably good to be here with Hobi, falling into an easy conversation despite the nervousness coursing through your veins. Once you reach the eighth floor, Hobi leads you down the hallway toward a closed door.

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing to where you still hold the dishtowel in your hands.

You blink, not even realizing that you brought it in with you. “Oh…um…part of my question, I think?”

Hobi chuckles, pausing outside of the door. “I was wondering when you were gonna use that question.”

At the end of your date with Hobi two months ago, he’d allowed you two questions about whatever you wanted to know. You only asked one, wanting to keep the other for a future time. You never thought it would lead to this.

“Ok, let’s head inside.”

Your eyes widen, but Hobi doesn’t notice as he pushes the door open and strides inside. The sight that greets you makes you want to sink through the floor.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit in front of the recording equipment, while Taehyung and Jimin lounge on the couches at the back of the room. Yoongi is busy on the other side of the glass, eyes closed as he raps into the mic. His dark hair is straight, kissing his brows while he clenches his fists at his sides,

You’re frozen in place as suddenly you’re surrounded by his voice. It’s lilting, more like singing than rapping. The words coming from his mouth stop your heart.

“Don't have to be right, just wanted you to stay the way you are, kindhearted, always smiling, but-”

“Hey!” Taehyung jumps up from his seat, alerting everyone to your presence. “You’re here!”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair, wide eyes crinkling as he grins. Namjoon quietly greets you, cheeks pink as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

It’s Jimin that notices how lost you look. “Everything alright?” He ambles over to you, bending his knees a bit to look at you. He grabs your shoulder, eyes scanning your face. “Jagiya? Want to sit down?”

But you’re still clinging to Hobi, one hand wrapped up in the fabric of his jacket. “I…actually, Hobi, weren’t you gonna show me your new studio?”

You look back at Hobi, aware that everyone in the room is now staring at him as well with confused looks. You give Hobi a pleading look, but not before you see someone on the other side of the glass.

Yoongi stands before the microphone, frowning as he looks at you. As you lock eyes, he tilts his head to one side and mouths a single word.

Jin?

“I…uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go look at it first and then come right back, right?” Hobi says, the confusion clear in his voice. Thankfully, he doesn’t question you and instead steps back through the door. “Be right back, guys.”

Just before you walk away, you turn back to try to communicate to Yoongi that you’re here for him, not Jin. But he’s gone, the side door to the studio still swinging from where he walked out.

           Your head is still spinning by the time Hobi heads into his own studio, hardly pausing to admire it before he’s whipping around to face you. The second he closes the door, he’s crossing his arms and giving you a worried look.

           “What was that all about?” He asks. “What’s going on?”

           “Hobi,” you croak out. “Hobi, I need help. I need answers.”

           Plopping down on his cushiony swivel chair, you squint at him. You can feel a headache coming on.

           “I can’t give you the answers if you don’t ask the questions, jagi,” Hobi chides, pulling up another chair to sit in front of you. His gaze catches on your wrist. “You still wear the bracelet I made you?”

           You pause, glancing down at the bracelet. “Of course. Everyday.”

           Hobi smiles softly to himself before leaning back and letting out a long sigh. “Ok. Tell me what’s going on.” He eyes the star-spangled dishtowel still in your hands. “I assume this is about Yoongi?”

           “I…how did you know?”

           He nods to the towel, chuckling softly. “He came to me asking if I knew how to embroider. I didn’t, but I got him a little embroidery kit to practice with on tour. It cracked me up when he ended up buying plain white dishtowels and would spend his time backstage embroidering little stars on them. I didn’t know he was planning on giving them to you at the time…do you guys have some sort of inside jokes with stars or something?”

           You stare at Hobi like he’s just grown a second head. “He what?”

           “What?” Hobi blinks. “Did you not know that he stitched them?”

           Of course not. When Yoongi had gifted you the dishtowels, you’d thought it was sweet, if a bit odd. You even remember joking with him about it, saying that he’d paid off the neighborhood grandma to do it for him.

           “No! I never knew that! Why would I…why would he…”

           “So…you don’t have an inside joke about stars?”

           You sigh, throwing a hand over your eyes. “How could I be so blind?” Slumping down in the chair you ask miserably, “I mean, it makes sense, I guess…he’s done so many things-”

           At this, Hobi stops you. “Like what?”

           There is a long, long list of things that Yoongi did for you that he never told the boys.

           “Or there’s that time he passed up on his Laker’s tickets because I had that end-of-year project due, and I was worried that nobody would show up to my presentation.”

           You remember that with a jolt. You had to give a twenty minute presentation on the effects of addiction, something that hardly seemed like a riveting topic. The general public was invited to the lecture hall, but despite your valiant efforts handing out fliers and sending e-vites, you were convinced that it was going to be a flop.

           It was. There were about seventeen people scattered about the hall that typically seated three hundred. Your hands were shaking and you thought you might burst into tears on stage because you felt like an utter failure, but then movement caught your eyes.

           Sneaking in and taking a seat on the very back row, sat Yoongi. His bucket hat was pulled low across his eyes and a couple of body guards tried (and failed) to looked inconspicuous as they took seats near him. When you stuttered, he help up a thumbs up and quietly encouraged you to go on.

           Jin’s words from earlier come back to you. I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.

           By this point, you’re exhausted with all of the things Yoongi has done over the years. How blind you’ve been to his unadulterated kindness. Hobi senses it, seeing your shoulders droop. He falls silent, allowing you to sort out your thoughts before you speak.

           “Does he still want me?”

           Looking up at Hobi, you allow yourself to feel the question at you repeat it. “How could he still want me? After how blind I’ve been to my own feelings?”

           Hobi smiles softly, leaning forward to take your hand in his. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Jagi…I don’t think Yoongi completely understood his own feelings most of the time.”

           “But he’s done so much-”

           “That he has. But when you love someone, you don’t do those kinds of things for gain. He didn’t do those things to make you fall in love with him.” Hobi laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “He did it because you’re the right person. And when you’re with the right person, it’s simple. Does he still want you? Simple.” He shrugs. “Yes.”

           Yoongi is gone, Jungkook tells you when the boys eventually come knocking at Hobi’s studio. They sit in a semi-circle, pondering all that they’ve learned. Hobi had quickly explained the situation to them, and despite your worry, nothing happened.

           Nobody yelled, nobody banished you from their life.

           Instead, Jimin had laughed. Laughed.

           “Pay up, loser,” he’d commanded as he elbowed Taehyung. Taehyung whined and said that he’d Venmo him in a second.

           “Wait, you made a bet?” You shriek. “About who I’d go for?!”

           The boys all laugh nervously, Namjoon slowly edging toward the door. You snap your fingers at him, glaring. “You don’t get to leave, Kim. Were you a part of this?”

           “I…yeah…”

           “But Yoongi’s gone,” Jungkook repeats. “Aren’t you gonna tell him?”

           You sigh. “How am I supposed to tell him? Just march up to him and throw myself at him?”

           Namjoon shrugs. “I mean, that’d work for me.”

           “Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “Just go for that.”

           Hobi rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, jagiya. But do it soon. You’ll psych yourself out if you wait much longer.”

           It feels like you’ve time-traveled back to middle school, gossiping around the lunch table about your crush. Somehow, that’s comforting. While there’s a bit of awkwardness in the air, you can’t help but feel like you’re back.

           “Oh,” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mouth open in a little ‘o’, “but whatever you do, make sure there’s cookies. Or some sort of dessert.”

           “What?”

           “You know, to celebrate if he accepts your confession, or to make you feel better if he rejects you.”

           Gasping, you jump up to your feet. You point an accusing finger at Hobi. “But you said that he’d still want me!”

           “He does! Taehyung, take that back right now.”

           Tae stands up, his grin softening as he steps forward. That’s when you see how much they’ve been hiding behind their playful demeanors. For you. To help you.

           Wrapping you up in a hug, Taehyung squeezes you tight. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.” And then, quieter so no one else can hear, “We’ll be fine.”

           You’ve never considered yourself to be a nervous baker, but here you are. Sliding another cookie sheet into the oven while two batches are cooling on your kitchen table.

           By the time you made it home last night, you could hardly keep your eyes open. While sleep did come to you relatively quickly, you were wide awake the second the sun crested the horizon. Wide awake, and a nervous wreck.

           Is this how the boys felt when they came to take you out? If so, they deserve a medal of bravery. You’re still within the comfort of your own home, but you can hardly breathe properly.

           Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Yoongi just sent you a text that he’s on his way. Bouncing on your feet, you run your hands under the cold water in an effort to rid yourself of clammy palms. Drying your hands on the infamous dishtowel, you smile softly.

           Everything is going to be ok.

           Yoongi doesn’t get there for a long time. It’s long enough that you’re worried, and you pick up your phone to call him. A second later, you hear another phone ringing just outside your door. Hardly believing it, you rush toward the front door only to pause.

           “Here we go.”

           Swinging the door open, you come face to face with a guilty looking Yoongi. He’s halfway back down the stairs, but freezes in his steps as he hears the door open.

           “Yoongi?” You’re absolutely bewildered. “Where are you going?”

           Letting out a breathy laugh, Yoongi slowly begins trekking back up the stairs. “Oh…um…I thought I left something in the car.”

           “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

           “What, are we not lying to each other today?”

           Smiling softly, you shake your head and open the door a little wider. “No. Not today, I’m afraid.”

           Something akin to fear flashes in Yoongi’s eyes at your words, but a second later he’s back to normal. “Smells great. Are you baking cookies?”

           “I’ve baked about a thousand, yeah. Can’t stop. It’s a condition.” You ramble as you turn and head into the kitchen, hoping that he’s following. The sound of his footsteps confirms that he is. “Want some?”

           When he doesn’t answer, you turn around to see what’s going on.

           Yoongi stands beside your table, fists clenched in the sleeves of his cardigan. He’s practically staring holes into the sweet treats, brows furrowed as he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, it’s shaky.

           “I’m fine, you know,” he grinds out, not looking at you. “You didn’t need to bake me cookies. I’m not…I’m not mad.”

           “Mad? What?”

           “Isn’t this why you brought me over? To let me down easy?” His voice is quiet, yet every word is like a bullet. “That’s why you were at the studio last night, wasn’t it? You were talking to the others about Jin.”

           Your heart stops.

           Is that why he disappeared last night? He thought that you’d made your decision, and it wasn’t him?

           “Yoongi, that’s not-”

           He’s already stepping back, refusing to look at you. His eyes are trained on the floor as he stumbles back toward the entryway, looking like he’s doing his best not to full out sprint. “I’m fine, jagiya. I know you’re worried sick about us, but don’t worry. I already told you not to worry, don’t you remember? I shouldn’t have said all of those stupid things on the beach…is that why you brought me over? You felt like I needed some sort of special treatment?”

           You take off after him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Yoongi, listen to me. This is for you. It’s all for you.”

           But he doesn’t hear you, he’s busy fumbling with his shoes that he slipped off beside the door. His hands are shaking, but he still refuses to look at you. “I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he says earnestly. His black hair is falling in his eyes, but it doesn’t shield his pink cheeks from your eyes. “I…wow, this is humiliating, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come-“

           “I invited you-”

           “-but I didn’t want to worry you even more, so I came over – why can’t I get these shoes on?!” He collapses to his knees, dropping his head into his hands as he finally gives up on his shoes. “Even that was a stupid mistake,” he whispers, never one to raise his voice. “I bought these for our date but then I realized that they would be stupid to wear to the beach.” He laughs at himself, no humor in the sound.

           You take a look at the dark shoes, which appear to be made of leather. They lace up, but it’s obvious that they’re not broken in yet. Crouching down beside Yoongi, who keeps his face hidden in his hands, you struggle to find words.

           “They look nice,” you mumble, voice raw. Have you been screaming? Or perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion, finally setting in. “Very pretty.”

           “I wanted to wear them for you. Just once.” Taking a deep breath, Yoongi sits back and brings his knees up to his chest. He back presses against the back of your couch.

           And you’re here. Sitting beside him in the entryway to your small apartment. So far away from where you thought you’d be.

           As Yoongi glares at his shoes, you notice just how bloodshot his eyes are. Like he hasn’t slept in days.

           “Isn’t it odd?” He muses, tired eyes dragging over to meet yours. You’re unable to breathe as he stares at you without the barriers he usually puts up for himself. For the first time you can ever remember, Yoongi looks at you and lets you see everything. Perhaps he’s too tired to mask the longing anymore.

           Your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. “What’s odd?”

           He inhales sharply before breathing out slowly. “After everything, I’m still trying to impress you.”

           The small confession strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you screw your eyes shut. Once the feeling passes and you’ve composed yourself, you open your eyes again to find Yoongi’s again on his shoes. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he reaches out and eases his shoe from your hands. Then, he slips it on his foot.

           As he begins to tie the laces, you open your mouth to say all of the things you should have a long time ago.

           “I see you everywhere I go.” Your eyes are trained on his deft fingers as he pauses for a moment before continuing to lace up his shoe. “For a long time, I didn’t know what to do about it. I just brushed it off as a side effect of our friendship. In my mind, it was better to ignore it than to face it, because then what? I could never have you.”

           His hands are trembling again as he finishes his right shoe and reaches for the left.

           “You’ve always been so good. There whenever I needed you, there just in the off-chance I called. On stand-by, like my own personal assistant.” You chuckle, perhaps a little insane by this point. “And I convinced myself that whatever that was between us, it was enough. It was just gonna be me and my seven best friends for the rest of my life. But then…things started to change. You guys challenged me to view you as something more.”

           He’s nearly finished tying his shoe now, your time is nearly out. But he fumbles, unable to quite finish.

           “That night you guys came up with the dating idea, I knew I was walking into a trap. I wasn’t worried about anyone crossing any boundaries, I was worried about me making the biggest mistake of my life. Sitting there I think I was starting to realize I had feelings for you, and I was one slip-up away from hurting everyone else.”  Now he stops breathing. But his fingers are still slowly working at the laces. “I cared for you then, but I loved you when you showed up at my door seven dates later.”

           He’s just managed to finish tying his shoe when you stop speaking. He doesn’t speak, only staring down at those laces with wide eyes as he processes what you just said. You take his silence in stride, still talking. Still confessing.

           “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was torn between the what-if’s and the what-is. That I was drowning in the possibilities everyone was offering me, but that when I was with you I was finally able to see the world for what it is. But you just said, ‘I know’ and I thought that you did. I figured you knew, because you’re you, how could you not know what I was thinking? You always do.”

           Yoongi stops nibbling on his lip long enough to voice a question, his voice hoarse. “The world for what it is…what is it?”

           You take courage in his curiosity, deeming this a good development. “It’s only tolerable because you’re in it.”

           He falls silent again, deep in his thoughts.

           “Yoongi,” you call softly, heart hammering against you ribs. “Could you look at me for a second?”

           He does, eyes wide with confusion.

           Those eyes, the ones you see everywhere you go. Crinkled up in laughter, joking with you over something stupid. Proudly watching you from the back row as you present to a small crowd. Filled with adventure as you sneak your hand into his pocket at the haunted house, inviting you to dive inside.

           It was those eyes that you saw looking back at you that night with Jungkook, out of breath and lost as suddenly it wasn’t Jungkook kissing you, but Yoongi. That forbidden dream become real as you squeezed your eyes shut and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment longer before pulling away.

           It’s now, looking into Yoongi’s dark eyes that hold so much promise, that you find it easier than ever to say what you should have said that night when he showed up to help you with your essay. Looking frazzled but ready to swim the entire ocean if it would help you. Instead, you had just given him a lingering hug before excusing yourself to go to your room and sleep.

           Sleep hadn’t found you that night, because you had been awake and asking your ceiling why a man like Min Yoongi would do anything for you.

           “Yoongi,” you whisper. “I love you.”

           He doesn’t move, but just blinks. Once. Twice. You see the doubt swirling in his eyes, so when you reach out to pull at his shoelace, you repeat it.

           “I love you.”

           One shoe at a time, you untie the laces. You undo the pain you’ve caused him, break down the barriers he put up.

           “I love you.”

           You continue to repeat the words, focusing on his shoes and not daring to look up at him just yet. Not until you get his shoes off, because then you feel like he can’t run away.

           So you undo the knots and repeat those words with a shaking voice. “I love you, Yoongs.” When you go to slip the shoes from his feet, he helps you, kicking them off and reaching forward to place his hand under your chin and make you look at him.

           Yoongi is crying when you look at him, the tears falling silently. A part of you wonders if he even realizes that he’s crying.

           “You…” he swallows, those eyes so wide. “…love me?”

           It’s simple.

           “Yes.”

           Yoongi furrows his brows again, trying to understand everything that’s happening. “But…Jin.”

           There will be time to explain everything. For now, you answer the question Jin asked you yesterday, standing before this very door. “The pact, the note. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how I feel. He came over yesterday to ‘let go’, he said.”

           Something like recognition flashes across Yoongi’s face at those two words, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods slowly, trying to follow what you’re saying. “And you feel…”

           “I feel very in love with you, yes.”

           What happens next is burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

           Yoongi sits up, reaching across to you in a flash, pulling you until you’re falling forward. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into his lap just like he did on the beach. And as he holds you, he laughs. He’s still laughing as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s grinning as he presses his lips to your cheeks.

           Tears are still falling down his cheeks as he brushes his lips against your own. Hesitantly, as though worried you might pull away and tell him it was all a joke.

You return the kiss fervently, speaking in a language only you two can understand. He pulls away, staring down at you as though surprised to find that you’re really here and not just a figment of his imagination.

“I love you,” he whispers. And then he’s kissing you in earnest.

Breathlessly, desperately, and with a touch of insanity that only comes after spending two nights wide awake and heartbroken. As he holds you tight and kisses you harder, you know that he’s healing himself with each touch.

           One kiss, one shattered fragment of his heart sliding back into place.

           Your hands wrap around his neck and wind into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he gasps and whispers those three words again. “I love you.”

           When the smell of burnt cookies pulls you apart several minutes later, Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and sticks to you like glue. He rests his chin on your shoulder, planting a few lazy kisses along your jaw that sets your skin aflame. “Mm, I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

           Placing the burnt cooking atop the stove, you chuckle. “I know.”

           “Agh,” Yoongi groans, burying his head in your shoulder. “I thought you meant something different, ok?”

           “I know.”

           “Yah! I was trying to be understanding of your feelings I thought you had for Jin!”

           Reaching to turn off the oven, you grin. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

           As Yoongi feigns annoyance while shoveling cookies into his mouth, you marvel at all it took to get to this point. Yoongi notices your attention, puffy cheeks turning pink. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he silently offers you a cookie.

           “So…” he begins, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking.”

           “Dangerous.”

           “Well, I know how much you like bad boys.”

           “Mm, true.”

           Yoongi laughs along with you before continuing. His eyes sparkle like the night sky, drawing you in. “Are you free this Saturday?”

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thank you all for reading! I’ll be back with an inside look at the pact as well as answering any questions you may have. Feel free to send your questions in! 

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